


A great past and a dark fate

by SugarCoconut



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Before the game story, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Hegemol is the first knight change my mind, Kingdom of Hallownest, M/M, Narrator Lemm, No one knows what happened to the five great knights so let's use our imagination, Platonic Relationships, Sad Ending, So much angst, Ze'mer is a useless lesbian, fluff?, lost journals, relationships, soft, soft moments, the pale king is a heartless bastard, the traitor's daughter is named Iogair, what happened to the five great knights
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:27:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23787823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarCoconut/pseuds/SugarCoconut
Summary: No one knows what the hell happened to the five great knights, and we will probably never know. So sit down and let me tell you a story that is definitely not canon, but that's all you'll get for now so don't complain.At its peak, the Kingdom of Hallownest, ruled by the magnificent Pale King and the White Queen was protected by the five greatest knights: Hegemol the Mighty, Dryya the Fierce, Ze'mer the Mysterious, Isma the Kind, and Ogrim the Defender. Halas, through History, any record concerning the five greatest combatants of  Hallownest was lost...that was true, until the day a mute and stoic Knight stumbled upon the personal journals of said champions.
Relationships: Dryya & Hegemol & Isma & Ogrim | Dung Defender & Ze'mer | Grey Mourner, Isma/Ogrim | Dung Defender, Traitor Lord's Daughter/Ze'mer | Grey Mourner
Comments: 25
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter...0? It’s just an introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that we knew little to nothing about the Five Great Knights, and I think it is quite unfair. So buckle up buttercup, we're in for a ride on the sad train!

Chapter 0 (introduction)

Hi.

Welcome to this fanfiction. 

Almost everything that will be posted here will be a bunch of headcanons, and some things might or might not be based on in-game and canon informations. 

The point is, I think we don't have enough content concerning the five great knights, which is kind of sad because they are, or at least to me, the most interesting characters. So I thought "hey. I have a brain. I have a mind to think. I have a will to break. And I have hands to write!" so here we are. 

Once again, I want to apologize for the occasional mistakes. Also, if you have any suggestions or ideas, go ahead and tell me in the comments! 

So have fun, and I hope you will enjoy.


	2. testimonies of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The knight had always been content with dream nailing the fallen guard in front of the dead shell that once was referenced to as The White Palace. But for once, they decided, despite their lack of will, to explore the place itself.

The sound of light footsteps echoed in the dead silent corridors that formed the ancient bassin. Dark, gloomy, a memorie of a glorious past now dead and yet still swarming with life. Fossils covered the ceiling, the walls and the floor. Shells twice as big as the little wanderer who somehow managed to made their way down there were littering the ground. 

The tiny knight was running as fast as their short legs allowed them to, occasionally fleeing away from belflies and their deadly strategy. The caped traveler couldn't really tell what they had on their mind, if they even had one. They were frankly just wandering around, trying to discover new areas they hadn't been able to find on their first visit.

At some point, without fully wishing to, they stumbled upon the entrance of the palace grounds. To the great disappointment of their thirst for discovery, they had already been there. They had already wormed their way inside of the Kingsmould's mind, already seen the blindingly white bricks that composed the castle, already heard the whispers of the foolish servants, already faced the path of pain, already found the corpse of the Wyrm...and they certainly did not want to see any of these things ever again. 

On that thought, the Knight was about to turn around and continue their journey when they realized something. 

  
Yes, they had already explored everything they could in this echo of a dream, but they had never thought about investigating the ruins themselves. 

  
The decision was of course quickly made, and in the way they always made a decision: they walked through the broken entrance, and jumped down. 

In a cloud of ashes they rose, surrounded by rubbles of walls and fancy spikes. The once pearl white stones were now grey and dusty, and the silver gates were covered in rust. The air was heavy with void particles and regret. As the wanderer jumped from stone to stone, from broken statue to torn fence, they couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the ones who once were naive enough to believe that this monument would stand forever. Of course, their compassion faded away as soon as they saw one of the dreaded buzz saw crushed underneath a particularly large rock, and if they had been able to smile, they would have done so at this sight. 

What a shame that they soon learned that they couldn't in a million years find anything useful, or at least anything they could sell. In silence (or by respect, or because they were mute, no one could tell) they watched the landscape before them. Only darkness and sorrow returned the knight's stoic gaze. They jumped down from their dais with a quiet sigh, but almost jumped out of their skin when they felt their feet hit a soft surface instead of the pointy pebbles covering the ground. Out of habit, they brandished their nail, thinking they had landed onto an ennemi laying down. 

They felt quite sheepish and ridiculous when they realized it was nothing but a bunch of worn out books. They were about to brush it aside when it struck them. Why on Earth would there be such objects here? And what if they contained some precious knowledge? 

The traveler carefully approached the relics, still wary. The books turned out to actually be some sort of leathered journals, and the knight could count five of them. Though each one was fairly thin, they all had an unique design on their cover. The one that looked like the most ancient, bore the symbol of the Wyrm, layered by a large "H", simple yet carved so deep in the leather that one could see the paper underneath. The four other ones almost looked the same: the symbol of the King covered by a letter, said letter each time seemed to have been written with a knife or some other barbarian tool. The second journal bore a "D" carefully written in cursive . The third one, an "I", decorated with elegant symbols resembling flowers. The fourth one bore an "O" seemingly written in a clumsy fashion. And the last one bore a "Z", so delicately marked that the knight almost failed to notice it. 

With curiosity, they opened the journals...and learned the hard way that they couldn't have deciphered them for their life. It was at that moment that the wanderer remembered that they could only read the ancient language of the higher beings, and had never even bothered to learn to read the alphabet of the communs. They barely knew enough to understand what Cornifer wrote on his maps, but five entire journals were a whole different stories. With of huff of indignation, they grabbed the diaries and shoved them under their cloak. Surely, they could find someone who could translate their saying for them. And oh yes, the traveler already knew who to ask.

******

"By the Wyrm, not you again you tiny waste of space!" 

The ghost stayed stoic when met with the usual rudeness of the Relic Seeker, or Lemm for his friends...which he didn't have, so just Relic Seeker. 

Without, as always, saying anything, the knight made their way to the desk, and stared intensively at the shopkeeper. 

"What do you want now?" The cranky bug groaned "to sell me yet another King's Idol? A thirtieth Hallownest seal? If you don't have anything better, you can scram off."

To his (sort of) invitation, the knight slammed the five journals of the counter. A heavy silence responded to the hard smack of the diaries against the wooden surface. 

"What..." Lemm stuttered "What are these? They do not look like wanderer's journals in the slightest...".

With delicacy, one that showed that Lemm was more than intrigued, the old bug lifted one of the books. He traced the king's symbol with his thumb, then the letter on it. 

"Did you carve these?" He asked. The ghost answered by shaking their hollow head. 

The Relic Seeker passed his hand on each journal, not saying a word afterwards. Sometimes, a quiet "no...it couldn't be" could be heard, whispered underneath his beard. Several minutes passed before he took a breath in and finally opened the journal with the "H". His eyes read the first sentence. Then he looked at the knight, who was still waiting, then back at the sentence, then back at the knight, then back at the sentence...And slowly closed the diary. 

"Where did you find these?" Lemm asked in a whisper.

The wanderer pointed to an old painting of the White Castle, hanging behind the shopkeeper. 

The bearded insect inhaled sharply, and mumbled "Do you have any idea of what these are?".

Once again, the knight shook their head. 

"For The Wyrm's sake, how can one be so ignorant? These, you oblivious grub wielding a toothpick, are the personal diaries of the Five Great Knight of Hallownest!" The Seeker exclaimed, before shoving each journal in the wanderer's face. "H for Hegemol The Mighty, D for Dryya The Fierce, I for Isma The Kind, Z for Ze'mer The Mysterious and O for Ogrim The Defender! These are probably the only traces remaining of the great knights, and these inestimable treasures just had to fall to the claws of the least educated bug of Hallownest! By the King, even the most corrupted husk would have been able to guess so!"

The ghost let the old insect go on and exhaust himself. Once he was finally done, he sat down in his chair, huffing and red in the cheeks. Not done with him yet, the knight tapped the counter to gain his attention.

"What do you want now?" 

The traveler only answered by miming someone reading a book and then pointed at the relics.

"If I can read them? Of course I can, do you think me illiterate? Sure, I might struggle a bit with their handwriting for some of them didn't have the...cleanest ones, but nothing a professional like me couldn't handle." 

The ghost then marked a pause. Sheepishly, they made the mimic again, then pointed at themselves, and made a cross with their arms. 

Used to the nuisance's signing, Lemm guessed what they meant. "You can't read them? Well, what do you want me to do about-..."

He was met with an awaiting gaze. 

"...Oh no. I am not a goddam nanny, I don't read stories to children. That's a no!" 

The ghost seemed to rise an imaginary brow. With an air of challenge, they got their bag of geo out of their cloak and put it on the counter with some sort of sassy air that Lemm didn't like. 

"Pay? Why, alright then...let's say...herm....900 geo for the pack." Lemm tried.

The knight smacked the counter, and the Seeker knew what it meant..."higher."

"Alright alright...1000 for the whole stack."

Smack.

"Hugh...350 each!"

Smack.

"500 each?"

Smack.

"I...damn it...700 each!"

Smack.

"Hey now, I'm not made out of geo!"

Smack.

"I didn't even suggested anything you-...!"

Smack. 

"You better stop that or else-..."

Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.

The noise was getting louder and louder. The counter was creaking with pain and the objects on it were threatening to fall down. Lemm rubbed his temples and cracked under the pressure.

"Alright! Tell me what you want!"

The smacking stopped.

Lemm looked up to his client, who was staring at him with such intensity that the void within their skull seemed to fill the entire room. Slowly, they mimed someone reading, then Lemm, and then themselves.

"That's...that's all you want?"

The void creature nodded. In response, The Seeker huffed but soon regretted his action when the wanderer rose their fist once again. 

"Fine Fine! I'll read them to you but please, please stop being so noisy and destructive!"

Satisfied, the knight grabbed a stool nearby, dragged it to the counter and sat in silence. Lemm sighed but complied, himself secretly very content to get these relics for literally nothing else but a reading session and a bit of his pride. He took the first one, the most ancient one, the one of Mighty Hegemol, and cleared his throat. 

"I, Hegemol The Mighty, here lay my deepest thoughts and most personal story..."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading my work! Don't hesitate to tell me if you think I could improve something, give ideas or suggestions, ask questions, or whatever comes to your mind. So I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, see you in the next one!


	3. Where mightiness comes from

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is this beast lurking beneath the blue lake?  
> Will it kill and hoard, like it is expected to do?  
> Or will it bow and vow to be loyal?  
> 

The cristal like noise of silver nails meeting each other with passion echoed through the dream arena. The fencing session had just started but even a blind worm could tell who had the upper hand. In the blink of an eye, the deadliest wielder sliced the shell of his opponent in one swift motion. With that, the dream shattered and faded away, letting its occupants regain consciousness.

"Pointless..." the winner hissed with venom as he stayed lied down on the cold marble table. "Pointless, pathetic, incapable...these should have been your names, since they seem to describe you so well."

The higher being stood up hastily, annoyance causing his pure blood to boil.

"My king I am sorry I just..." the defeated stuttered feebly, in an attempt to avoid any form of further humiliation.

" 'I am sorry' 'I am sorry' 'I am sorry' ! For the love of me, you pitiful scums only seem to be able to say this! Cease to apologize and improve instead." The Wyrm spat out to the apologetic sentinel who had had the misfortune to wield with him. He then dismissed the soldier with a snap of his fingers, who didn't need to be asked twice.

In an attempt to cool down, the Pale King sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Commandant?" He asked with a calmer voice, even though an attentive observer could tell that his wrath was still slithering underneath. To his command, a large sentinel stepped onwards and saluted. "Could you please explain me why none of your soldier seems to have improved during the last three weeks? If anything, they seem to have worsened."

The commander didn't know if he was allowed to say what he wanted to reply, but did so anyway, "Your majesty, you see me saddened to tell you so but they have improved. The thing is..." the Wyrm rose a brow in defiance, and the major's throat tightened "is...that...they couldn't be able to defeat you even if they had to."

"...So you truly are but a bunch of cannon folders?" The higher being seethed at the shivering commander "Do you have even the slightest idea of how dangerous can my ennemies be? They could, and probably will be, just as powerful as I am if not even more. And what will you and your petty soldiers do then? I could brush you all aside with one hand tied behind my back." As he was talking, the Wyrm stalked closer and closer to the poor major. Once he was inches away from his face, he whispered with all the hatred one could muster "Of what use will you be then?"

The bug gulped and dared to reply "But my King, if you are so strong, why would you need us to protect you in the first place?"

The pale being stayed dead silent for a few seconds before scoffing with a glint of malice in his dark eyes. "Are you suggesting I should go out and slay my ennemis on my own? Do you have any idea of how politics work? Some of the tribes around here are still hostile to my presence, and showing them an image of me slicing my opponents' throats open would certainly not be a good propaganda." He turned around and walked to one of the gigantic stained-glass window that enlightened the dream-training room. "No, that would be foolish of me. Tempting, I must admit, but foolish nonetheless. I need someone else to get their hands dirty. Someone who would kill for me, and would embody the death of my foes, so I could appear as a merciful ruler when compared to them."

The Pale King remained silent for a while, admiring the view that was presented to him. The major couldn't dare to move and wisely chose to make himself as immobile and quiet as possible. That was until the door bursted open and a sergeant entered without being invited to.

"Your majesty!" She exclaimed "Your majesty, the beast residing where you planed to install the Capital has once again overcame us."

"For The love of-..." The higher being groaned, feeling a headache rearing its ugly head "You truly are just a handful of incompetents. Not even able to take care of the first peasant that opposes to you. See commander, that is exactly what I was talking about." He turned to the sergeant "And what do you expect me to do about this whole thing? Aren't you the ones supposed to take care of this kind of mundane task?"

"But we've tried everything my Wyrm!" She pleaded.

"What an annoyance you are! Try to fill its hiding spot with water and drown it in its sleep. That's how you get rid of vermin."

"We have already done so. And it survived, without any trouble it seemed."

The King frowned but didn't question her. "Start a fire near the entrance and let it suffocate then."

"This is one of the first things we have tried."

"Put explosives around its cave and let it be squished underneath."

"We have done so. It simply shoved the remains asides and was quite enraged."

"Well...invade its den with a dozen of your strongest soldiers and kill it."

"It crushed them with only one of its mighty fists"

"Try twenty."

"We did."

"Thirty?"

"It was no use."

"Forty?"

"We were only able to scratch its shell."

The Pale being was...well. Appalled. But at the same time, a sparkle of interest could be seen in its onyx eyes. "So you are telling me, that there's a, potentially, intelligent creature residing up there, and who is able to get rid of any of you like if you were nothing more than a pile of dust?"

The sergeant nodded, prepared to be once again insulted for the incompetence of her battalion. Her heart almost stopped when she felt the sharp claws of her King gently squeeze her shoulders. He leaned down and quietly ordered "Lead me to it."

**********

The Pale King stood before the entrance of the barbarian's lair. The air was wet and heavy with tension, the forty guards standing behind their monarch were strained. But the Wyrm himself? Oh he couldn't help but feel excited. Without saying anything, he peacefully walked inside the cave, signaling to his troops to remain where they stood.

The higher being winced in disgust when he felt the muddy floor underneath his feet but kept on walking onwards. At the end of the long corridor that seemed to have been sculpted with the strength of one bug alone, he could see a faint light. Satisfied to see that he hadn't just ruined his most favorite cape for nothing, he marched towards the light, which appeared to be a fire camp.

Yet, once his eyes got accommodated to the darkness of the lair, he couldn't stifle his hum of awe when he saw the occupant of said place. Near the fire, a gigantic, enormous figure could be seen. It was so big, and so dark that one could have thought it a rock. But the slow ups and downs caused by its breathing showed that the titan was very much alive.

The Pale King had stopped in his tracks, and contented himself with admiring the creature. It seemed to be some sort of beetle, based on its thick and jet black shell, and its large horns that showed above its large shoulders. Lost in his contemplation, he hadn't noticed that the creature had slightly turned his head and was now staring down at him. He would never admit so, but he had to force himself not to jump when he heard it speak. Mainly because unlike what he had expected, the beast's voice was much softer than what he could have ever imagined...which somehow made it even more unnerving.

"Who are you pest, and what are you doing here? Is it Death you seek?"

For once the Pale Kind didn't have any salty comeback. He just looked at the giant and cleared his throats before speaking "No, no my friend. I am but merely here to enjoy the warmth of your fire. May I?"

"And why, dare tell, should I let an insect like you rest besides me?" It growled with a deep voice.

"Because I know a lonely soul when I see one, and you friend are the saddest one I've met so far." The Wyrm replied. He knew it was a risky move... But for some reason it worked. The hulk glared at him but patted a rock nearby. The pale one felt a bit of pride and sat down with dignity.

For a moment they shared a tense silence before the behemoth broke it with a groan. "You have yet to answer my question, invader. Who are you?"

The king swallowed his pride and answered. "To my people, I am a King. To you, no one probably. And you, who are you, mighty warrior?"

"...to your people, a threat. To you, as well."

Way to present oneself the white being thought. Yet he had to admire the efficiency of its menaces. "Ah, so I must conclude that you are the one who was able to defeat even my bravest soldiers. I must bow to such talent."

"And you are the one who keeps sending a bunch of flies to me. An annoyance they are, but they surely are nice little snacks. And if these are your bravest warriors..." the goliath chuckled darkly "...then you should fret for the future of your playground and bow to me, king of nothing."

The last sentence left the King dazed. Never had anyone ever dared to speak to him this way, and yet it was...refreshing, for some reason. He hardly repressed an amused snicker at the situation. Him, a Wyrm, divin and antic creature, was being insulted by a slightly overgrown beetle. And he was enjoying it.

"What are you laughing at, maggot?" The barbarian hissed.

"Not at you, but at myself, be reassured friend." The Pale being answered with a smile.

Satisfied with this answer but confused, the colossus huffed and turned away. In the corner of his eyes, the Wyrm saw it petting some sort of boulder, resting in its lap.

"Pray tell friend, but why are you caressing this orb?" The Pale being asked out of curiosity.

"This isn't just an orb fool. This is the heart of my deadly weapon, the one that crushed so many of your dear little puppets' skulls." The hulk replied. And at that, the king saw it wriggle and two white eyes stared at him from underneath the solid shell. It was a bug, a lesser one it seemed, and it emitted a noise that resembled the one that a grub would make. It was much less intimidating than its owner.

"Hello there." A happy chirp answered him, "What's its name?" The King tried, in hope to keep the conversation alive. He didn't miss the way the giant's eyes wrinkled in a proud smile, one that a parent bears when they look at their child.

"Flower is her name", he whispered fondly.

"...Does the violent Titan have a soft side or am I once again seeing ahead everyone?" The Wyrm gently mocked. Immediately, the creature's face closed and a scowl returned, even if the king could see a faint blush if he squinted a bit.

"Silence you wormling. I am not the one who is violent, I ask nothing but to be left alone. Yet you keep on sending swarms of pests who come and disturb me, and you then have the nerves to come and face me?" Its profound voice was now filled with venom, and the walls shook as it spoke "Be thankful to the gods for I haven't crushed you beneath my thumb and drank your blood like the most delicate wine."

"I am the gods my friend, and I certainly do not plan on thanking myself. And for your threat? It is nothing more that words thrown to the wind. You said it yourself, you are not one to attack first. And my person hasn't attacked you yet." The King said with the same delighted calm.

The beast tried to reply but the higher being was faster than it, "Besides, I do have to admit that you are indeed a grand opponent, and much more capable than any of my minions. You are actually, the one I have been trying to find for a long time." The Goliath sent him a puzzled look "Oh trust me, I am as surprised as you are, if not more."

"Wait a minute worm...You are asking me to...to what? Work for you?"

"I'm asking you to make to vow to protect me and kill whoever I tell you to."

A heavy silence fell upon them.

"...You must be kidding me..."

"I assure you I am not, my friend" the pale bug smiled "I need someone, you see, to be my scourge and embody the terror my enemies will feel. I couldn't do it myself for if I did so, the people would be terrified of me, which is not something I need right now. You on the other hand, are already known to be a mighty warrior, and having you by my sides would guarantee me safety, respect and admiration." He finished his little tirade by elegantly folding his arms against his chest.

The giant looked at him, bewildered. "For someone so tiny, you do have some nerve." It murmured lowly. The pale king made a light movement with his head at that, showing that the Titan wasn't exactly wrong. "And me, what would I gain from that?"

"So you accept?"

"There was no affirmation in what I said, only a question. That I wish to be answered."

The Wyrm nodded once again, "Why of course, you would be a fool to accept my offer without asking anything in return. You gain protection..."

"I can already protect myself."

"...money..."

"I don't need money, I take what I want when I wish to."

"...and to stop being considered a monster by everyone, but a protection to anyone who accepts to obey me."

To that, the hulk had nothing to say. So it said nothing.

Several minutes passed, maybe even half an hour. All of a sudden, The Pale King rose.

"I have taken advantage of your hospitality for long enough. Thank you, my friend, your fire has warmed me enough. But I must be on my way now." He politely bent down and turned his back to the occupant of the lair. "I'll ask my guards to cease to harass you and leave you alone as you do dearly wish to. My offer still stands by the way, just come to the palace if you are interested." And with that, he walked off with the same dignity he had when he arrived.

As the king was but a few feet away from the exit, the barbarian called out to him, "And who must I ask to speak to?"

"I alas do not have a name. But ask for The Pale King, and everyone shall know you are talking about me."

An echoed made it's way to the ears of the Wyrm, something about "royals and their pompous titles..." he smiled at that and replied.

"And who shall I expect to receive?"

A silent pause.

"Hegemol. Just Hegemol."

"I will be waiting for you Hegemol Just Hegemol." And with that, he left the den.

**************

Several days later, two sentinels approached the King, claiming that the Beast from underneath the blue lake was asking for him.

"His name is Hegemol, who taught you your manners?" He replied before marching pass the confused guards. As he arrived to the entrance of the white palace, he could already see the behemoth standing there.

Hegemol looked stoic as around twenty guards had circled him, weapons in hands, while he himself held nothing but long and sturdy branch vaguely shaped like a spear, and Flower perched on his shoulders. He looked different here, for all to see. He was still as intimidating, such an imposant figure he was, as the light radiating from the palace was shining against his black shell, which was covered with scars from old battles He just looked...a bit uneasy.

But he soon regained his composure when he saw the pale king, and bowed lightly before him. "Pale King."

And to the surprise to each witness present, the king bowed back "Hegemol."

"I've thought about your offer. And I accept it. On one condition." The visitor announced with his deep yet somehow calming voice.

"Anything you wish for my friend." The Wyrm replied.

At his words, Hegemol lifted his arm to make visible to the eyes of all a terrible scar, caused by a sword it seemed, and so deep it had went through this sturdy shell of his.

"Your soldiers did this. Now you repair it."

The King nodded. "Fair enough. Come inside, I already have something in mind. Have you even heard about pale ore?"

**********

After three days, the entire population of the kingdom was asked to come to the palace, in order to witness the dubbing of the King's personal knight.

All were gathered before the dais where the king stood. Behind him was the intimidating figure of Hegemol, now bearing a silver colored and shiny armor of pale ore, which very much resembled his features when he wore none. The Pale Wyrm cleared his throat, and a respectful silence fell upon the assembly.

"My dear followers, I thank you for having traveled a long distance in order to present yourself to this ceremony. In this most glorious day, we celebrate the arrival of the greatest warrior of Hallownest to our ever growing army. Step ahead, my knight"

To his command, the knight took a step ahead placed himself besides the king, then turned to face him.

"Kneel my friend."

The hulk did so, and the king drew his personal nail out, taking a moment to let it shine with glory in the solemn goal to make the people gasp in awe. He then slowly put it on his champion's large shoulder, then on the other one.

"For I am the King of the Kingdom of Hallownest, I hereby dub thee Sir Hegemol the Mighty. Thee shall wear this name with pride, and until thee draw thy last breath stay loyal to the Kingdom and its King."

With that, the King withdrew his nail and Hegemol The Mighty stood up under the acclamations of the people. Taking advantage of the noise produced, he muttered lowly "Hegemol would have been enough."

"Oh my friend" the Wyrm replied with a smirk "you know us royals and our pompous titles."

**********  
**********

Lemm closed the journal with respect and let his old mind wonder.

"I can't believe that...that Hegemol the Mighty once called the Pale King a maggot and a nuisance." He breathed. What a discovery this whole thing has been.

He shook his head and looked at the wanderer before him, mute but attentive.

"What? Aren't you satisfied? I did what you asked me, I read to you. Now away."

The knight rose his hand.

"ALRIGHT I GET IT." Quickly exclaimed the Relic Seeker. "Let's leave this one rest for now and try another." He put back the old diary and took the second one. D, for Dryya the Fierce. He once again opened it carefully, coughed and read.

"I, Dryya The Fierce, here lay my deepest thoughts and most personal story..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading my work! Don't hesitate to tell me if you think I could improve something, give ideas or suggestions, ask questions, or whatever comes to your mind. So I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, see you in the next one!


	4. Of fierce and fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hatred built solemnly on deceits and whispers.  
> A phantom of fate, a needle drawn for no reason, a ferocity turned against the wrong person.  
> Will she kill? Will she break?  
> Will she vow loyalty and bow?

Years had passed and the Kingdom of the Pale King was getting bigger and bigger with each passing day. Most of his conquests were made in the most pacifist fashion, but it wasn't uncommon for him to face more...stubborn opponents, who only obeyed to raw strength. It was in these moments that the Wyrm congratulated himself for having entered the den of Hegemol all these years ago. But even if most of the time no violence was required, the King still made himself some enemies, each one stronger than the one before. 

The heart of the palace had been conceived in such a way that its walls would shine their blinding light when the sun was high, but dim down when the moon appeared in the sky. It had been made in such a way so that the bugs living within its corridors would still be able to live in rhythm with the rest of the Kingdom. But for some reason, on that night the bricks were even darker than usual. 

The Pale King had locked himself inside his personal office, where he would study the newly drawn maps of his territory, reports freshly written about the negotiations of the day or how the ressources were going. But even though the clear blood of the gods was pulsing in his veins, the King was exhausted, and had no other option but to use his hands to hold his head, else he'd collapse directly onto his paperwork. Needless to say, he looked miserable. 

It was when he almost knocked his skull against his table for what seemed to be the hundredth time this night that he heard a light coughing sound coming from in front of him. He rose his head and saw his Goliath of a knight, Hegemol, looking at him from his corner of the room, with a look that clearly meant "stop being a stubborn infant and go to sleep already." It was in this moments that the king bitterly wondered if he had hired a valorous bodyguard or a personal nanny.

"Do not worry my friend, I don't need to rest. I might seem vaguely fatigued, but it is far from being the worst thing I've had to go through." The Wyrm tried, in attempt to make his knight give up on the idea of making him go to sleep. 

The knight stayed silent for a moment, and the pale being thought he would be left alone for a few extra hours. How naive he was for someone blessed with foresight. "With all due respect my King, you look like Death."

At that the Wyrm drew out a long sigh and threw his head back, "Understand me Hegemol: I still have an ridiculous amount of work ahead, and if I don't take care of it now, it will just get worse."

"I didn't think that the greatest enemy I'd have to protect you from would be yourself..." the giant muttered back. 

"Oh trust me friend, you will learn to fear my lack of self-preservation." The Pale being half-joked, which caused his champion to shake his head in disapproval. 

After a long yawn, the king returned to his paperwork and kept on reading and writing. He was so drained that he hadn't notice that Hegemol had somehow managed to make his way behind his ruler while staying unnoticed. Which was indeed worrying, since even if he could at time be impressively discreet for someone so large, for the Wyrm not to mention his action was concerning. Without saying anything, the warrior leaned over the king's shoulder, quite an amusing action if one take in consideration the fact that the giant could already see what the Wyrm was doing with ease, from his higher than average point of view. For a short while, he quietly read what the ruler was writing, then slowly put a finger on word, the action causing the pale being to jump. 

"Hegemol? When did you-..."

"You wrote 'king' with two 'e's instead of one 'i'." The champion pointed out. 

"Huh?" The higher being squinted at the word before letting a little "oh" of realization. "I...yes, it seems I have. What a shame, well, mistakes happen to everyone, dont they?"

"...You wrote 'king', your very own title, with two 'e's." Hegemol repeated, glaring at the Pale King. 

"I do not see why you are making a fuss over a mere mistake my friend." The pale creature responded, as he pretended that it was no big deal. The two of them shared what looked like a joust of glare before the beetle broke the silence with his rumbly voice.

"Bed. Now."

"How dare you command me? I am your king, Sire Hegemol, and I do not give you the right to-..."

"Please."

The Pale King was cut short in his tirade when he heard how softly his friend begged him to go and rest. Faced with his concerned gaze, the king groaned and stood up. 

"Fine. But I'm only doing so because I choose so."

"Whatever makes you content, your majesty." The knight replied warmly as he bowed to him, in an borderline mocking way. Too tired to reprehend his protector's teasing, the ruler simply walked towards the door and pushed it open to demonstrate how capable and independent he was. 

But as soon as he did so, a spectral and slender figure dashed towards him, a long needle in hands, ready to end his existence. With a shriek of terror he dove down in order to avoid a cruel fate, and immediately was pushed backward. He opened his eyes, his heart still beating, and was able to make out the form of Hegemol standing before him in order to shield him from the menace...which seemed to have disappeared. The knight looked around, seemingly confused as to what the threat might have been. He then turned back to his king, tensed and alert.

"My king, are you alright? I did not pushed you too harshly did I?" The Goliath asked in concern.

Now fully awake, the pale being was still catching his breath, inhaling and exhaling rapidly. "No, no, do not fear so my knight I...it seems as..." he looked back at the entrance of his office, free of any assaillant, or so it seemed. "I think I just had a vision...a vision of an assassin here to kill me." 

Hegemol's eyes widened in horror, but he did his best to regain his composure as he helped the divin King to get back on his feet. "My King, could you please give me any other information you might have gathered from your foresight?" The knight wondered, pushing his increasing worry asides.

"I...it was a woman, slender and pale of shell, with a long and fragile stature....she bore three horns so sharp they could kill a man and she was wielding a thin needle..." he rubbed his forehead in an attempt to clear his thoughts, "it will happen tonight...she will come and try to kill me tonight, when I will be vulnerable."

At these words the gallant warrior tensed up and immediately dragged his king out of his office, "We must then lead you to one of the secret area of the castle. Do not worry my Lord, I will make sure that you are safe at anytime. But we must hurry and-..."

"No....no!" The Wyrm exclaimed as he stepped away from the champion, "I...I can not explain it but yet...I feel like I have to go to my room."

"Your Majesty, you aren't thinking clearly...!"

"Oh trust my dear friend, your thoughts can never be clearer than after you have a vision, once the shock has passed." The white monarch replied as he let his instinct dictate his actions and decisions. "I must pretend I am not aware of what is going to happen to me."

"By the ancient gods...I did push you harder than what I first thought." The hulk murmured with wide eyes, "you do not seem to understand, but the goal is to protect you, not to get you killed."

"Hegemol, Hegemol my friend. For my own sake, listen to me and do not doubt me." The Wyrm reassured his knight and put a comforting hand on his large arm, as he was to short to reach his shoulder. "I am driven by the very same sentiment that convinced to approach you. And each day that passes I congratulate myself to have done so. So please, believe in me."

Hegemol stared deep into his monarch's eyes, torn apart by his desire to protect him and the trust he put in him. But when he saw the solid conviction shining inside of the pale being's eyes, he just had to surrender.

"You know that I will always believe you, Pale King."

The white ruler thanked him with a nod, and they begun to walk towards his bedroom as if nothing had ever happened. 

*********   
"Stay outside of my room as usual my champion, I will call out to you if needed." The higher being spoke with serenity. On the other hand, Hegemol had hid his fear behind his usual stoic facade and bowed his head respectfully.

The king entered his room and closed the doors behind him. The white fourniture had never brought any sort of warmth to the bedroom, even with all of their elegant engravings. But on this particular night, the ambiance was so hostile that it made a creature as powerful as Wyrm want to leave on the moment. 

Yet, he calmly walked towards his closet, undressed nobly, put on his favorite dressing gown (if he had to be assaulted, he might as well make himself presentable) and serenely walked to his bed. He even took a moment to read a few pages of the book that he had started, just to spite his murderer, and when he decided it had been long enough, he put it down and turned down his light. And then he played the waiting game. 

Oh and not much waiting he had to do. From behind him, he heard the gigantic window of his room open, the cold air of the underground slithering into the room. Two feet hit the carpet with delicacy, but the king decided that he shouldn't move just yet. Footsteps approached, so light he could have dreamed them, yet it just wasn't for now. The criminel came to an halt, the sound of a weapon sliding out of its leathered prison cut the air, but the pale being did not move. It was only when he heard the profond inhale that every bug about to commit a murder draws in that the pale Wyrm opened his eyes. In one swift motion, he slid out of his sheets and went to grab the nail he always keeps underneath his bed. He shifted around and confronted his slaughterer. 

She stood there, proud yet furious, her needle deeply shoved inside the very pillow on which the ruler's head had been seconds ago. Her three horns, as sharp as the weapon she brandished, crowned her head with majesty, and her eyes were darker than the most somber night. Yet, the monarch could not help but let out a snarky comment.

"You see me sorry to announce you such a thing, but I will always be ahead of you dear. But if your craven and futile attempt of murder wasn't successful, try a battle to death with a god." The Wyrm almost purred. 

"The only 'ahead' you will be, tyrant, will be a head on the ground!" She spat back with hatred. 

With that she lunged towards him, blade first. The king blocked her assaults the best he could, but quickly understood that he might not be a match to this impressive fencer. 

"And said that Hegemol almost prevented our meeting!" The Wyrm laughed through his exhausted pantings. "Speaking of him, it might make is a more even fight for you if you were to confront him, wouldn't it?" 

His question was quickly answered by a flash of fear in her eyes, then by the increase in speed caused by a newly found panic. He took advantage of her agitation to push her away from him as far as he could. 

"NOW WOULD BE THE RIGHT MOMENT TO MAKE AN ENTRANCE MY FRIEND!" He shouted to his champion. 

As soon as he finished his sentence, the doors bursted open and the mighty knight charged in, and struck the assassin with a surprisingly nimble blow of his heavy weapon. The poor girl crashed against the wall and fell on the floor with a groan. But not even a second afterwards, she jumped up, to the amazement of her opponents. Quiet yet deadly, she leaped forwards and dealt several strikes to the giant, who, unfortunately for himself, wasn't the most skilled when it came to close combat, and the pest was sticking to him like a tick. 

On the other hand, the Wyrm was enjoying the show oh so much. He had to stifle a squeal of enthusiasm when he saw the renegade afflicting blow after blow to his champion, even though these were useless against his armor and stature. 

After a few exchanges, Hegemol had started to understand her strategy. He waited for the right moment, where she would jump into the air to attack from above, and struck her in mid air, efficiently knocking her out. He did not miss a beat and rested the head of his hammer, Flower, against the other warrior's chest. The hulk looked up at his king, waiting for his orders. 

The King approached the duo with grace and bent down. He could see her eyes through her now lidded eyelids, still filled to the brim with animosity. 

"Take her to an empty room of the donjon, I would wish to discuss with her."

And on that sentence, she faded back into unconsciousness.

********

The dissident woke up tied with thick ropes to what seemed to be a chair carved into stone. She blinked a few times, her vision still blurry.

"It took me two blows of my mace to knock you unconscious, slender one." A deep yet soft voice whispered from a corner of the room. "I'm pretty sure I would have needed a third one if I hadn't pinned you down. I must admit, I am impressed."

Now, her eyesight had cleared enough that she could see her surroundings. This room, unlike the rest of the white palace, had grey colored walls, which were bare of any decoration. Illuminated by the torches discarded around, the intimidating form of the King's great knight stood in front of her, a few feet away. 

"What are you going to do with me now that you've got me, brute?" She hissed, already ready to fight it seemed. 

"Brute? I don't think I could be worthy of such a title anymore." He responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. "And to answer your question, I myself am not going to do much. His Majesty, on the other hand, wishes to speak to you."

And as Hegemol finished what he had to say, the door was opened by a royal retainer. The servant then stepped inside, put down a wooden chair before leaving hastily. After she had left, the king himself stepped in, graceful as always.

  
With a hint of smugness he looked at the prisoner, who if she hadn't been secured would have jumped on him at the moment, he was sure of it. "Good morning, dear." He greeted the assassin with a faint smile, to which she answered with a scowl.

He sat down in his chair, and Hegemol remained behind him, towering everyone in the room. "Now." The pale being spoke. "Let me ask you a question, one so simple I'm sure you will able to answer: why did you want to kill me?"

Even if it was one of the most obvious thing one could have expected the ruler to ask, the rebel felt indignation and shock fill her veins. "Why isn't it obvious?" She growled.

"Hum...no, not very much it seems." He replied with unmasked amusement. Which simply made her blood boil.

"Not very much? Not very much? You are the reason so many of us live in the lowest poverty, you swagger inside of your shiny little castle while we sweat and famish, you are the reason my parents were killed!" She seethed and shrieked, fury deforming her delicate features, "You are a thief, a tyrant, a profiteer who takes advantage of the beggars and the hard workers! You deserve to burn for your selfishness!" And with her final statement she spat on the ground with all the disgust she could muster.

An icy silence crashed upon the room as the wet sound of her spit hitting the ground was heard. The king did not seem fazed in the slightest by her accusations, but simply looked at the little spot of saliva at his feet. He then looked up at her, still unimpressed, and rose a brow in her direction. 

"Pray tell my dear, whom shoved such a falsehood in this silly little head of yours?" The Wyrm practically purred, as he watched with satisfaction her eyes widen at his statement. 

"Pardon?"

"I said than none of this is true, dear. See, the money of the people does not interest me in the slightest. Yes, I do collect it, an insignificant amount per inhabitant i must say, but for good measure only. Actually, I could seize every single geo belonging to every single occupant of my kingdom and yet I wouldn't be able to gather even a quarter of what I already own." He rose up delicately from his chair and continued "For my sake darling, the only place where the geos are forged is within my palace. I could crash this economy down to the ground if I wished to, and yet I use this advantage to even offer financial help to the ones in need. And I would be but a fool to let my nation suffer, or even to rob them from the little amount of riches they have." He stalked closer to her, his voice still and barely above a whisper. "All I ask from my people is their praises and for them to worship me. And as far as I know, it doesn't cost anything to anyone. So tell me, my dearest, how am I responsible for your parents death?"

And this time, the renegade was speechless. She closed and opened her mandibles to no use, unable to form a coherent sentence. "But...But they told me...their murderer he..." 

"He what? Told you that he had no choice? Told you that times were hard? Told you that it would have been different if the fat cats weren't asking him for a money he didn't have? Well let me tell you, my dear: he deceived you. Cowards hide behind someone else, someone more powerful than them if they can, so the fools who listen will turn against another." 

The king stood inches from her face, his somewhat cold and odorless breath brushing against her. She gazed at him, filled with shame, and was only met with cold calculating eyes. For a moment she thought "I am going to die because I was enough of an imbecile to listen to the one I should have ran after in the first place." And almost had a heart attack when he spoke again.

"Tell me, where did you learn to wield the needle with such ability?"

She cocked her head to the side in question but answered anyway. "The...The mantises. The mantises taught me how." 

The ruler hummed and nodded, thoughtful "Ah yes, I had guessed so."

He turned his back to her and took a few steps, his chin trapped between his thumb and his forefinger. "My relationship with the mantis tribe is the most tense, and you were able to hold a fair fight against my champion." Said knight looked down at his monarch, puzzled, but the higher being decided not to answer his silent question directly. "He could learn from you, as you could learn from him...and I wouldn't pass the opportunity to discreetly show to the mantises that I am not hostile to them or anyone in relation with them..." 

That's when the giant got it.

"Your Majesty...she tried to kill you."

"And you threatened to squish me with your thumb alone on our first encounter."

"This is definitely not the same thing and you know so."

"Oh I do but I would be a buffoon to pass such an opportunity. Moreover, didn't you say that you had the deepest faith in me and my decisions, just a few hours ago and so many times before?"

To that, Hegemol had nothing to say. So as he did so often in such a situation, he said nothing. 

"Grandiose!" The Pale being turned once again to the rebel, who had witnessed this exchange with confusion. "You, my dear, what is your name?"

"Dryya...?"

"Well Dryya, would you like to join me and become my knight? I will grant you protection, a roof to sleep under, and a new family." 

With a snap of his fingers, the behemoth made his way behind the prisoner and tore her bounds apart like if they were nothing but silk strings. She took her wrist and rubbed it a little, and looked at the hulk above her. He had in his eyes a glint that said "we both know that you are going to accept it." and she then looked back at the Pale King, who now held an outstretched hand to her. 

"You..." Dryya stuttered and still wary "you are not going execute me?"

"Unless you really wish to die then no, you can keep your head for now. It will be much more needed on the battlefield anyway." 

She looked at his opened palm and his immaculate white claws. Without fully realizing it, she put her hand in his, like if someone else had drew hers to do so. But as soon as they made a contact, he squeezed her and patted the back of her now trapped hand. 

"Wise decision." 

********

A few days after, the same ceremony that Hegemol had had organized for his knighting was arranged. All of the inhabitants of Hallownest, their number greater than last time, had come to witness the ceremony. Dryya stood proud and tall besides Hegemol The Mighty, who had showed himself much more caring to her than what she could have ever expected. Her shell was even whiter than before, an several pieces of armor had been gifted to her, such as a shielded skirt of polished and brillant pale ore that rested on her waist with elegance. The soon to be knight was staring at the assembly, unable to contain her awe at how many people had showed up just to see her be knighted. Oh how her parents would be proud. 

"My dear followers, I thank you for having traveled a long distance in order to present yourself to this ceremony. In this most glorious day, we celebrate the arrival of yet another grand fighter of Hallownest to our ever growing army. Step ahead, my knight"

To his command and under the serene look of Hegemol, the slender fencer took a step ahead and placed herself besides the king, then turned to face him.

"Kneel my dear." 

The belle did so, and the king drew his personal nail out once again, its brilliance even brighter than before or so it seemed. He then carefully put it on his champion fragile shoulder, then on the other one.

"For I am the King of the Kingdom of Hallownest, I hereby dub thee Lady Dryya the Fierce. Thee shall wear this name with pride, and until thee draw thy last breath stay loyal to the Kingdom and its King." 

With that, the King withdrew his nail and Dryya The Fierce stood up under the acclamations of the people. A feeling of pride filled her heart as the older knight stepped up to her sides. 

Taking advantage of the noise produced by the cheering crowd, he bent down a little and muttered lowly "Welcome to the family." 

And even if she was the deadliest and most dangerous of beauty in Hallownest, tears filled her eyes as she whispered back, "Thank you for inviting me in it."

"No my dear," The Pale Wyrm on her left murmured "thank you for accepting to do so."

  
**************  
**************

The Relic Seeker looked up from the diary, even more dumbfounded than before.

"Hegemol The Mighty called the king a maggot....and Dryya The Fierce tried to kill him for no real reason." The old shopkeeper sputtered. "I can not believe it...I can not believe it...and what about the others? Has Isma The Kind tried to enslave the people of Hallownest? Has Ze'mer The Mysterious tried to burn the castle down? Has Ogrim The Defender tried to destroy the economy?" He then turn to the one and only member of his audience "I can't believe it, can you believe it?"

He was met with nothing but silence. 

"...Of course. What did I expect. At least you won't interrupt me so that's a win. I guess you want to see me humiliate myself some more and read you another one?"

The wanderer nodded vigorously.

"Hum....who could have guessed." Lemm set the journal aside, decided to continue his lecture later on. But for the moment being, he grabbed a third diary, which bore an "I", for Isma The Kind. And for the third time he coughed and read.

"I, Isma The Kind, here lay my deepest thoughts and most personal story..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading my work! Don't hesitate to tell me if you think I could improve something, give ideas or suggestions, ask questions, or whatever comes to your mind. So I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, see you in the next one!


	5. A heart beating with kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gift, symbol of adulation, that showed itself to have much more uses than what had been announced.  
> A most delicate flower, that was covered in venomous thorns.  
> Will it wilt and wither? Drown itslef in its own poison?  
> Or will it bow and vow to be loyal?

The Kingdom of Hallownest had yet to stop growing. Each passing day, new buildings would rise from nothing, new territories were conquered, new people joined the cult of the Pale King. And on this day, the ultimate and most impressive demonstration of the King's domination was finally complete.The City of Tears, jewel of Hallownest, beating heart of the kingdom, an absolute architectural feat born from the plans of dozens and dozens of the most brillant minds of the sovereignty.

To inaugurate his new masterpiece in the most marking way, the Wyrm had decided that for the first day of the capital, he would arrange an extremely private and romantic encounter that would last all the day for himself and his divin lover, the White Lady, so they would have the City of tears for themselves and themselves alone. Thus, not only would he be able to spend some time with his conquest, but also show the commoners how sacred the said city shall be considered in the future. But let's be honest, it was mainly because it allowed him to see his precious Root. 

A large crowd was awaiting before the gates of the capital, each one awaiting with barely contained thrill the arrival of their sacred king. As always, the white ruler arrived exactly at the time he was supposed to come. Around twenty soldiers marched in and formed a guard of honour for the monarch, and every member of the assembly bowed as the royal fanfare announced the ruler's arrival by playing the anthem of the Kingdom. And finally, the god-king appeared in his sumptuous silver robe, his walk slow and elegant as ever. He was followed closely by his two bravest knight, Mighty Hegemol and Fierce Dryya, whose armors shone gloriously under the white light of the lanterns hanging from the ceiling. 

As the last notes of the hymn echoed within the corridor, the Wyrm came to an halt before the entrance of the capital. While he was marking his little pause, for effect only, Hegemol saw on his left something that made him frown underneath his mechanized helmet. 

"Is that me?" He whispered with an hint of annoyance, as he glared at the large statue resting next to the gates, as it held the seal of Hallownest in its large hands. 

Dryya took a look at the statue, a faint amusement painted on her features, "Hum. I think you are mistaken friend Hegemol, it clearly is an effigy of my person, haven't you noticed its svelte silhouette?" 

The older knight brushed her snarky comment aside and muttered underneath his breath, "Why, my King, would you accept to install such a grotesque sculpture? Do you aim to mock me?" 

"How can you think me capable of such a thing?" the higher being replied innocently "Furthermore, do not think this a mockery. More like a fond souvenir of our first encounter."

The mighty champion held back a nasty response, and Dryya took the opportunity to intervene once again. "Will I too have an effigy of myself built to honor our meeting, your majesty?" 

"No, but if you pester me to do so, I will have you one construct in the lowest part of the donjon."

"I know it's supposed to be some sort of passive-aggressive threat, but I must admit I wouldn't oppose to the idea." She quipped. 

The pale being didn't even bother to add something else, fully aware she would just try and push his buttons, which he certainly did not need. Fortunately for him, the entrance of the heart of Hallownest finally opened and the trio stepped inside, under the admiring gaze of the people, who fortunately hadn't heard anything from their hushed exchange. 

As soon as the doors closed, the ruler let out a sigh. "I sure hope you two will be more well-behaved when we'll come to meet her deity!" The divin being exclaimed with annoyance. 

"Her deity?" The slender fencer questioned, not knowing who her Wyrm was referring to.

"Oh, that is right!" Her hulk of a friend chimed in with his usual soft voice "You have yet to meet his majesty's beloved. She is a higher being as well, a creature of roots and life. I've myself only met her once. A gentle mind she is. With a hand that rises only to spread kindness and blissful serenity." The Goliath told his fellow knight with fondness in his eyes.

"Hand that I hope to one day make mine." The Wyrm continued. "The both of us can alas rarely meet. I cherish each one of our encounter, and I do hope that you will spare me from your unwanted remarks. Today is the most special day, and I wish for it to be perfect. Understood?" 

Both of the champions nodded. They were indeed blessed with a sharp and dry humor, which often caused them to slide snide replies here and there, but their love for their monarch was fortunately higher than their love for sarcasm, which was something to behold.

The trio made their way down the vast halls that composed the structure, the noise of their footsteps accompanying the sound of the drops of water from the lake above. In religious silence, they walked towards the heart of the capital, where her ladyship was awaiting them. Soon enough they arrived to their destination and there she was resting, sat on the edge of the fountain that was the heart of the heart. 

How towering she was, in all her elegance. She was of such height that Hegemol himself was dwarfed by her stature. Her horns were as long as Dryya was tall, and they were tangled in complex arabesques. And her body was wrapped in a delicate frock, its fabric thick and covered in luxurious pattern. It wasn't even needed for one to be told her higher nature, everyone could see and feel so. 

As soon as she noticed the arrival of her dearest and his champions, she hastily hid something under the heavy folds of her dress and greeted them with a charming smile. 

"Ah, my Wyrm! You have arrived at last. Oh how dearly I missed you, my flame. Come to me and let me embrace you, for it is all I've hoped for ever since I last saw you." With that she opened her majestic arms, that stretched far and in more than welcoming manner. 

To his knights' notice, the white ruler's cheeks darkened ever so slightly as he walked up to her, his walk more hurried than before. For a brief moment they held each other, and the monarch let his worries melt away under the voluptuous wrinkles of his cherished's gown. 

The two knights on the other hand looked away in respect, and Dryya found herself embarrassed in front of this display of affection, even though she would never openly admit so. 

"I guess I should have warned you about this as well." The giant laughed gently, himself slightly embarrassed by the lovers' display of affection.

"By the king, how can you stand such broad demonstration of affection?" She retorted "Why couldn't they keep it to themselves?"

"Technically, they are by themselves, we are only here to assure their security. And on the matter of my lack of reaction? Oh well, let's say I find their mutual affection endearing in some way."

"Don't tell me you are a helpless romantic?"

The mighty champion said nothing and just raised his shoulders. Before his fierce friend could question him any further, the lovers broke apart, a love struck smile on their faces. 

"Oh my exquisite root, how can you be even more splendid and radiant than last time?" The pale crown pondered for all to hear. 

"Vile seducer, you are only trying to fill the conversation. But do continue, your flatteries never cease to make me swoon" the white lady chuckled with this soothing voice of hers. 

"My lambkin, never think my compliments for you as not genuine." The Wyrm pleaded and took both her hands in his, even though hers were drastically larger than his. "But if you think my words empty, please do consider my gift for you to only be a fragment of my affection." With these words he slid a rolled parchment from under his robe and unrolled it before her.

"A map? Why thank you my dear, I will finally quit losing myself in the maze that is your kingdom." The pale dame thanked him, with what seemed to be honest gratitude. 

"No, no my hertis rote, your present is definitely not this old scroll!" With pride he pointed a special area underneath the greenpath, "See, I was able to conquer a part of the Mosskin tribe's territory...and since I know how much you value the presence of vegetation around you, I've decided to offer you these lands. They shall become your personal garden, so each time you will wish a bit of tranquility, you will find a place to go." 

The eyes of the white root were shining with joy and adoration. "Oh dear culver, my precious mitting, you are too generous to me! What a marvelous and thoughtful offering!" 

"You know me my nug: for you, no cost too great."

"By the love of them..." Dryya grumbled from her spot, "when will this come to an end?" 

Fortunately for her, none of the higher beings heard her, or else she would have been in a complicated position. But the poor fencer did fear so for an instant, when the pale dame rose her head to look at her. 

"Oh! You must be my Wyrm's new chevalier! What a pleasure it is to meet you, Fierce Dryya is that it?"

The needle wielder felt a wave of relief wash over her when she realized that her nasty words hadn't been detected. "Indeed my lady, and the pleasure is shared." She saluted and bowed. 

"My Pale King, you do like to have company don't you?" The root asked playfully, "well if I am correct, then you will much enjoy the gift I brought you."

"You brought me a gift?" The monarch questioned in bewilderment. "Why bother to do such a thing?"

"Because I wanted to, that is why. Now, I do hope you will enjoy it, for I have made it myself." And at that she took what she had hidden out of her frock. 

It looked like a white corm, with a green tuber on its top. The ruler and both of his knights stared at the bulb in confusion. At their lost expression, the noblewoman laughed and explained "I apologize for the lack of presentation, but it was much easier to carry this way. Just leave me a second." She carefully brought the strange sphere to her face, closed her big and clear almond eyes and seemed to focus. 

After a few seconds, a big tear rolled from her right eye and crashed onto the corm. Immediately, it started to budge and wiggle in her ladyship's hands. And it grew in size and some growth as well. Said excrescences seemed to elongate, stretch and thicken, and formed into what looked like limbs. And as abruptly as it started, the growing stopped, and what appeared to be a fairly short and plump lady was now curled in the higher being's arms. 

The three witnesses were perfectly still, frozen by shock, and all three of them were startled when its six black almond shaped eyes opened. The plant creature rubbed its eyes and stretched, unaware of the aghast gazes that it was receiving, and then turn its head towards the monarch and his champions. 

"My Wyrm, I present you my offering: Isma, a creature born from my roots, that I have conceived to obey you and be a faithful companion. She will always be a kind soul to turn to, innocent and harmless, full of good intentions and pure feelings." 

At that she slowly put the plant thing down, and it looked at the divin monarch with eyes full of curiosity. The two shared a visual contact, until Isma broke it and bowed to him. 

"My beloved king, it will be a pleasure to remain by your sides as your personal carer, confident, and friend" The creation said with a soft and melodious voice. 

The Wyrm stared at his newly found possession, then at his beloved and sputtered "My culver, you will never cease to impress me. I thank you for your unique gift, and promise to take good care of it." 

The pale lady let out a sigh of relief at his statement, "Oh for a instant I feared you wouldn't like it!"

"Pray tell, how could I ever dislike anything that comes from you?"

At that she giggled, and he took the opportunity to kiss the back of her hand and invited her to stand up. As the root did so, the knights got closer to join the sacred couple, thus getting closer to her elegance's gift as well. Isma turned to them, the same genuine expression of delight plastered on her face and bowed to them as well. 

"I salute you, oh brave knights. You must be the ones who respond to the names of Hegemol The Mighty and Dryya The Fierce? I do hope I will have the honor to see you fence, for it must be an impressive sight!" 

The svelte belle frowned at her, still suspicious, but the older warrior responded to the new servant in the most gentle tone he could muster.

"We are indeed, kind Isma. But, I wonder, how do you come to know our identity, for you seem to have been born only moments ago?" 

"What a wise question to ask, my Sire! You see, I know everything my creator knew when she blessed me with her tears, and within my soul, I will always be able to feel what she feels." The tubby creature answered with enthusiasm. At her last statement, the chevaliers exchanged a glance, but weren't able to ask any other question, for the Pale Wyrm had announced that they were all going on a stroll through the capital. And so, Isma placed herself behind their deities, followed by the two gallant fighters. 

**********

They had been wandering around for quite a time now, and the divin couple seemed to pay little mind to their company. The great warriors on the other hand did not pay little mind to Isma. 

"So...are we not going to address the elephant beetle in the room?" Dryya whispered, just low enough so that none other than her comrade-in-arm could hear her words.

"First of, I'm not an elephant beetle." Hegemol replied with this wicked humor of his, "And then, I don't think there is much to mention here."

The fencer made a noise of indignation before she continued, "Are you serious? Are you blind? How should we consider this...thing whatever it is? Is it a threat? Or not? Should we be wary of its presence or just embrace it?"

"I kindly ask you not to refer to her as an it. As silly as it may sound, being referred as nothing more but an object can be very hurtful." He muttered somberly, with an intimidating glint in his eyes. 

"Sorry my dear friend, I had forgot." His thin companion apologized, "but still, how should we treat...her? Since, technically, she is part of the white lady, making her some sort of...heir I guess? But on the other hand, one doesn't simply give their child as a present to someone else! Even a lover!"

"Remember that his majesty and his lover are higher beings, their notion of what should or should not be done or offered is much different from ours."

"Oh please, do not pretend that this whole situation doesn't make you uneasy! Even you must have your limits!"

"It is a bit...strange, I must admit, but nothing to make such a fuss over, even though I would indeed like to be able to answer your more that justified interrogations."

"Let me be of some assistance then!" Chimed in the plant being, seemingly not bothered at all to be talked about right behind her back, to the surprise of the two friends. "I do indeed come from the body of my dear white lady herself, but in no way you should consider me her infant. Instead, see me as purely her creation. As a pet she gave to her beloved, to prove her adoration."

"Wait, you want us to consider you...as a pet?" Hegemol asked, not sure he had understood what she had said.

"Affirmative!" Isma beamed.

And with that, she turned around and looked ahead with grace.

"Well, at least your questions are answered now, my fierce friend."

"And it's so much worse than what I could have ever expected." She replied in horror.

"I'll admit, it is disturbing. But do as I do when things get too unpleasant: stay quiet and march on."

And for once in her life, Dryya stayed quiet, and marched on.

************  
The group had come to an halt, and as the higher beings talked together, the knights and the king's pet were stuck together. To the chevaliers' awe, Isma proved herself to be quite a pleasant company, full of kindness and soothing tranquility. As the vegetal being stood up and joined their divinities for they called out to her, the two companions were left alone.

"Well," Started the mighty beetle, "she is indeed as delightful as the white lady had told so."

"She...she is indeed. But I can't help but feel like there is something more to her. Am I going crazy, my friend?"

Hegemol remained silent, as he was looking at the stout built creature, "No, I've felt it as well. Yet, for some reason, it does not worry me in the slightest." 

Dryya simply hummed and quickly change the subject. Due to the peaceful and rather comforting aura of the white root, every member of the group was much more relaxed than what they should have been, for they were not as safe as they had first thought. 

As fast as lightnings caused by an angered sky, around a dozen of assassins from the deep nest dropped from the ceiling of the room were the group had stopped. Caught unaware, the knights lost a beat on their opponents and drew their weapons only a second too late. As they dashed towards an ennemie after another, they weren't able to notice the one who had creeped around their defenses and the divin couple, who watched in shock the scene before them. 

But as the spider creature was about to strike, a whip of vine slashed through the air arroses itself around the assaillant throat. On the other side of the lash stood Isma, the tenderness in her features now long gone. As she felt the heartbeat of the renegade come to an halt underneath the pressure of her arm turned into a weapon, she carelessly let his body drop to the floor under the terrified eyes of the two pale gods. 

Her mind still clouded by a strong urge to protect her sovereign and her mother-root, she grew several more of the same vines, now covered in thorns and wriggling around her like tentacles. Possessed by a thirst for the blood of the rebels, her creepers cracked the ground with strength and lashed onto the remaining aggressors, slithering around their necks, twisting their limbs until they cracked under the pressure, whipping their flesh until blood flew in every direction. 

At last, the last rebel drew his last breath and her vines stopped in mid air. A frightening sight she was, her eyes empty of any remorse, long vines covered in spines bigger than knifes that had sprouted from her back and arms, the dark blood of the spiders running down her limbs. Slowly oh so slowly, she seemed to regain consciousness, and her creepers retracted into her as she was faced with looks of horror. 

Her throats was tight and she started to realize what she had done. 

"I...I didn't mean it I just...I saw them...and..."she turned to her creator and her master with pleading eyes, "please, I beg you...I was just trying to protect you...I...would have never been able to...I..."

At short as to what to say, she started to sob in despair, her silent hiccups causing her round frame to twitch and curl into a ball. 

As her pleases filled the room and the blood of the arachnids on her started to dry, the four witnesses were staring at her, unable to believe that before them was the same cool blooded murderer who had, by herself, killed more than half of the assaillants. 

Finally, the white lady stepped towards her creation, her bright eyes laying on her as she was seeing her own spawn for the first time. With a trembling hand, the pale being cupped Isma's cheek and stroked it fondly, which caused the tearful butcher to look up. 

"Oh my delicate creation...I have failed to make you as perfect as I wanted to."

With that statement, Isma felt her stomach drop.

"My lady...please....please I did not wish to disap-..."

"No, quiet my darling. It is my fault really, if you lack the blissful innocence I was supposed to bless you with...mistakes happen." She turned to her Wyrm with shame "My heart's gleam, forgive me for I haven't given you a harmless companion, but a defective creature capable of slaughter. But do not fret, I will offer you a new one, a better one."

Isma shook her head pathetically, tears even more abondant than before. "No...no please...I want to live...I can be better, I can be helpful...!"

Neither the monarch nor his champions knew what to do, too aghast to act. 

"Shh, silence my brainchild. Don't make more of a scene than what you already have, and accept your fate." The lady murmured to her, her voice eerily sweet as she spoke. A new tear rolled down from the root's eye, the left one this time. 

At this sight the creation cried harder than ever, clawing at the once tender hand of her inventor that was now squeezed around her throat. 

She begged and begged, wept and howled, fat tears rolling down her soft features. But as the root was trying to focus, she felt that Isma’s tears had started to burn like acid against her pale flesh. All of a sudden a sickening fizzling sound filled the room and the white lady jumped back with a shout, holding her hand tightly. 

Without even thinking twice, Isma took this opportunity to escape, using a newly formed vine as a grapple and flew away. 

"Do not let her escape!" The dame screamed "She does not know her strength and might harm an innocent!"

At these words Dryya regained her ability to move and dashed after the traitor, in the obvious attention of ending her...no, it. 

The king realized what had happened and yelled at his champion to stop but she was already gone. 

"No no no! She mustn't kill the plant creature! My mighty chevalier, go after them and prevent your comrade from executing Isma!"

"But my king, she harmed your dear and I can not...!"

"Don't question me and go already!"

Hegemol was at lost and confused, but obeyed nonetheless and ran out of the room as well, leaving the two higher beings alone.

The pale root stared at her dearest in shock and managed to question him through the numbing pain, "My Wyrm...why...why would you want her alive?"

"Because my hertis rote, you didn't offer me a simple companion. You offered me a knight."

********

As he made his way down the halls of the city, The Mighty Hegemol followed the two ladies with the help of the trail of dark blood and leaves Isma had left in her wake. Quick enough, he arrived to yet another room, from which escaped screams and insults.

Dryya had pinned the betrayer to the ground, and several vines lied down covered the floor, probably cut down by the sharp needle of the champion. 

"This place will be your tomb, weed!" The fierce warrior spat as she held her weapon high above her head, ready to slay down her opponent. 

Without a moment of hesitation, the giant charged his fellow fighter and pushed her out of the way, and Isma hastily cowered away, retreating to a corner of the vast place. In the main time, Hegemol had successfully trapped a now revolted Dryya in his massive arms. 

"What are you doing you moron! Unhand me on this instant!" She hissed with fury. 

"For the love of the Wyrm, calm down! He asked me to keep her alive so I would appreciate it if for once you made my task easier!" He barked back, efficiently appeasing her. 

"He what now?" 

"He wants her alive."

When the behemoth was sure she wouldn't jump at the poor thing's throat, he set her down. With a movement of his gloved hand he indicated her to stay back, and slowly walked to Isma, now shivering in fear as she recoiled even further into the corner she had tried to disappear into, or so it seemed.

"Hello little one...." the enormous warrior whispered warmly and softly, saddened to see her shrink away even more. "Shh, you have nothing to fear from me...I will not cause you any harm, alright? On the contrary."

He extended a hand in her direction, but she let out a sound in between a hiss and a whimper, and he immediately retreated it. 

"Fine, fine, I won't do that again, don't worry." He carefully sat down, in a way that he'd be far from Isma enough for her not to panic, but also so that he could catch her if she tried to escape. "Now, I'm sure you did not wish to harm her ladyship, did you?"

She nodded her head shakily, but still refused to relax. 

"And what you did to these guards...you did it to protect them, right?"

She nodded once again.

"You know, even if her deity said that what you did wasn't what you should have done, I think that you made the right decision." To that, the plant being stared up at him, her eyes wet and shiny. "You see, as a knight, I've had to kill to protect my Pale King before. And I know I did the right choice every time. And do you know why?"

She shook her head.

"Because I care about him. Because I vowed to be loyal to him and I wish to keep him safe."

"But me...I am no Knight...I should not harm other living beings...I was made to care and help...not...not..." the root's brainchild's words died down as she glared at her black tinted claws. 

"Trust me little one, you are more often than not brought to the world for a purpose much different from the one you had imagined for yourself." The gentle giant cooed with sympathy. 

In the softest manner he could have done so, Hegemol hid the perturbed lady's hands from her view by enveloping them in one of his broad palm. When she realized what he had done, Isma peered up at the chevalier and immediately broke down into tears...tears of relief this time. 

With a sigh, the hulk swooped her up in his arms and stood up carefully as to not alarm her. He then turned to his slender companion, who had witnessed the scene before her with incomprehension. 

"Let's bring her back to his royalty, I think he has a very important proposition to suggest to our dear Isma."

**********  
Suggestion to which she off course said yes to. And now that she stood next to the two great knights and behind the adored Pale Wyrm, before a crowd of bugs larger than what she could have ever pictured, Isma was glad to have accepted. She had opposed to the idea of bearing any sort of armor, as she consider these heavy metallic shells as nothing but a bother. Instead, the luxurious leaves that decorated her waist where flowing in the wind, as the long stem that crowned her head whipped the air. A shiver of excitement ran through her body as the Pale King spoke.

"My dear followers, I thank you for having traveled a long distance in order to present yourself to this ceremony. In this most glorious day, we celebrate the arrival of yet another grand fighter of Hallownest to our ever growing army. Step ahead, my knight!"

As soon as he asked so, Isma skipped to his sides, unable to hide her enthusiasm, which tore a smirk from Dryya The Fierce and a warm chuckle from Hegemol The Mighty. She then turned herself to face her monarch, who had struggles not to smile as well. 

"Kneel my dear." 

The plant creature obeyed, and the king yet once again drew his nail out. For the sake of being cliché, the nail shone even more brilliant than the last time. The Wyrm then carefully put it on his champion round shoulder, then on the other one.

"For I am the King of the Kingdom of Hallownest, I hereby dub thee Lady Isma The Kind. Thee shall wear this name with pride, and until thee draw thy last breath stay loyal to the Kingdom and its King." 

With that, the King withdrew his nail and Isma The Kind stood up under the acclamations of the people and the eyes of her newly found comrades. She turned to them and smiled with profond gratefulness, as they marched to her sides. 

The crowd was to loud this time that Dryya had to actually rise her voice to be heard my her partners. 

"I don't think I ever did so, so I'd like to apologize for trying to slay you."

"Wait, you hadn't excuse yourself to her yet?" Asked the mighty hulk. 

"Oh shush you two!" The new chevalier intervened, "I wasn't even going to hold it against her, and you know it. Plus, frankly, I don't care about what happened back then. For now, I am here, and I am happy." 

And in order to mark her point even more, she took hold of her friends hands, because damn this forsaken protocol. If she was going to be a knight, then she was going to do it her way: by not being afraid of showing her affection to the ones she loved. 

*********

  
The Relic Seeker looked up from the journal with a smile. 

"Ah, so this is how it happened? Well, at least Kind Isma didn't actively try to murder the Wyrm, and apparently she somehow overcame the difficulties she must have had with the queen." He put the diary back on the counter and patted it with affection. "It is somehow comforting to read such thing. Am I not right?"

Lemm glanced at his listener, who seemed as moved by this story as he had been moved by the previous ones...which meant not at all.

"Oh come on! This deserved at least a smile of a hum of appreciation!"

Silence once again.

"You are a terrible audience, you know that?"

With that the Seeker took a fourth journal. An "O" for Ogrim the Defender, a good continuation. And for the fourth time he coughed and cleared his drought throat, and for the fourth time he read. 

"I, Ogrim The Defender, here lay my deepest thoughts and most personal story..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you! Thank you for reading this chapter. Even though it was probably my favorite one to write so far, I also think it is for now my longest one.  
> In order to provide you a better writing, I won't post them day after day anymore, but every two days.  
> So stay around for more, and stay safe 
> 
> Ps: if anyone had any idea to what I could do with Ze'mer, please tell me in the comments because I am at lost, help


	6. The loyalty of a defender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High up in the colosseum, the keeper of a putrid loot awaits for a worthy opponent.  
> It isn’t by anger, it isn’t by ferocity, but by genuine love of combat, and love he will find.  
> Will he kill her? Will he seek vengeance?  
> Or will he bow and vow to be loyal?

Several years had passed since the dubbing of Kindly Isma, and the Kingdom was finally stable. From the Heart of Hallownest to its darkest corner, all inhabitants praised the Pale King and his elegant wife the White Lady, how he had finally wedded after years of courting her. 

Yes, the lands were at peace, for the time being at the very least. In lack of challenge, the king's three great knights were left to wander. Even if they of course always remained on their guard, in case of a incoming battle, the champions were growing tired of the passivity within the walls of the palace. That was until Dryya mentioned the Colosseum of Fools to the youngest knight, Isma The Kind.

The fiery chevalier had described the place as one of many dangers, where took place the most violent fights. Under the undecipherable glare of the one who was referred to as Lord Fool, whose origins were unknown, warriors of the greatest strength would confront each other, most of the time to death. She had also explained that even though the King seemed to feel for the Lord nothing but the most extreme disgust, he still had sent a champion to fight there, and wouldn't reprehend any of his soldiers for going to the arena.

On that note, Hegemol had intervened to specify that he himself had fought in the Colloseum, and that he kept from this place only a dark memory of unrequired violence. On the contrary, his fierce friend claimed to have somewhat enjoyed the challenge of the place, and that she wouldn't say no to a short visit up there. At that, Isma jumped on the occasion and practically begged them to take her to the colosseum. At first, her hulk of a companion had showed himself uncomfortable with the idea, while Dryya seemed much more enthusiastic. In the end, the two ladies managed to convince their comrade to join them. 

And so the trio arrived before the entrance of the circus, the maw of a beast of unknown origins wide open for them to enter. As soon as they put a foot within the guts of the long deceased monster that composed the architecture, all eyes stared at them. Warriors still covered in fresh blood (their own or not, no one could tell), gamblers trying to twist the game to their advantage, simple fools chained up for all eyes to see and all mouths to laugh at, all glared at them with animosity. And as suddenly as the tension rose up, it fell down and the jolly crowd turned back to their previous activities. 

"What a warm welcome." Hegemol huffed, as his hold on his mighty mace tightened "It surely feels just like home."

"Oh cease to worry already! We could very well wipe all of these insignificant pests out of existence if we wished to, my worried companion." Dryya replied with a scoff as she threw a nasty glare at some gladiator who had had the guts to look in her direction. 

As they made their way further into the structure, the smell of sweat and blood was getting stronger and stronger, as the noise of nails against shields increased in intensity. Then from afar they spotted a combatant who bore the symbol of the Wyrm on her helmet which was of a dull color and pierced with holes. Feeling observed, she looked in the knights' direction and waved as soon as she recognized them.

"Oh please, not her..." the fierce belle hissed through her teeth. But alas, the gladiator was already heading towards them.

"Well, well, well? What have we here?" The masked warrior hummed, with this childish and yet unnerving voice of hers, "If these aren't the King's greatest knights! What an honor to see you in our beloved lair." She mocked as she bowed. 

"Some of us had grown nostalgic of this place, Pale Champion." Hegemol replied, sparing his friends from an interaction with the bloodthirsty fighter. 

Said champion tilted her head to the side, and how perturbing this simple gesture was from her. "Oh is that so? You didn't come back just to see my pretty face, my big ol' Heg'? And I thought you came here for a rematch. You know, I still fondly remember the sound of the crushing skulls that exploded underneath your fists, and so dearly wished to hear such a song again." She cooed at the behemoth.

"My friends? Is this lady an acquaintance of yours?" Kindly Isma interrupted, to Hegemol's relief for not having to reply to the pale champion's remark.

"Ho Ho Ho! And you brought fresh meat at that! First time at the colosseum, little one? Be careful darling, or you might get a nasty surprise when you pass these doors!"

"A bit more respect towards her would be much welcome, thank you very much you pesky pest." Dryya snapped with venom. "You are addressing to our fellow great knight, Kindly Isma. Did one of your opponent hit your head so hard you forgot her knighting, or is your stupidity natural?"

"Ah, Dryy-dryy, as furious as ever! Your ferocity will be much needed in the arena today, for a foe of great strength has arrived a few days before, and has already vanquished some of the strongest gladiators."

"Are you speaking the truth, pale warrior?" The enormous chevalier questioned as to prevent his friend from answering. 

"I always do, sweetie! But try to fight your way to him if you can, I can't wait to see that. And, maybe, you'll spare me a combat against him."

"You? Backing away from a good fight?"

"Well, he does seem to be an opponent of rare vigor, but he tends to be...quite messy. So thank you, but not for me! On these words." The gladiator bowed once again in the most insulting manner and walked off. 

"What an annoyance she is..." the slender fencer seethed, "swaggering around like if she owned the place...imbecile! Does she not realize that she is nothing but merely a chess piece in our King's great game of power?"

"Do you really think us as more than other chess pieces in our King's great game, dear Dryya?" Hegemol pondered lowly, in such a whispered tone that the needle wielder wasn't sure she had heard him correctly. But their younger comrade intervened before she could ask any question. 

"Who on Earth was that?" The kind knight asked. 

"That, dear Isma, was the Pale Champion, our monarch's personal touch to this arena. Try not to approach her, she tends to let her primal instincts take over her manners." The Goliath answered with calm. "That being said, let's find a place where to install ourselves, I think that the next combat is about to start."

"Wait. You don't intend to fight?" The svelte chevalier exclaimed.

"Why, no. I told you, I'm not one for a useless fight, I've had my fair share of bloodbaths, and even more."

Dryya simply threw her hands in the air at that, mumbling something about being too much of a softie for his own good. Isma, on the other hand, tried her luck. 

"Well, for my part, I am going to confront a few of these jolly gentlemen." 

"Pardon?" The two others asked in bewilderment.

"Why, isn't it logical? Out of our trio, I am the one with the least experience in fights. You, friend Hegemol, used to be a barbarian before you became a knight, which made you enter even more battles than before. While you, friend Dryya, have learned with the mantises and have confronted many enemies as a knight as well! But I? I have never been in much of a duel. So, it would be nothing but beneficial for me to...train a little."

The giant tried to find a conter-argument, anything, but wasn't able to in the end. She did make a point.

"Very well then. We will watch you from the tiers, call out to us if you need us to intervene."

On that they parted ways, and Isma went to sign herself up for the next trial, almost skipping as she hummed a song. 

************

"You now what my gentle friend? I doubt that our aid will be needed."

"I...I must agree with you on this point." The eldest knight answered, his eyes fixated on his plant companion. 

She stood in the arena, the fools who had tried to defeat her lying on the ground, some dead and some alive...for the time being that said. 

The spectators were cheering for her, asking for more, more demonstration of her wild strength, more thorns on her vines, more victims to laugh and point at. 

"Well well well well well!" The warm-up guy exclaimed from his balcony, shouting through some sort of horn so his voice could be heard over the shrieks and laughs of the public. "What a terrifying warrior we have tonight! It's her first time here and yet the one who calls herself Kind Isma had already defeated more than half of our gladiators! I'm starting to think we have underestimated this maiden, haven't we fellas?" 

To his question the crowd roared in agreement. 

"Might be time to introduce an opponent worthy of her strength, right?" 

Yet another roar, full of expectation. As they saw the excitement in the fools' agitation, Hegemol and Dryya looked at each other in apprehension. It is well known after all that when the public of the Colosseum showed any more hysteria than usual, it was never a good sign.

"Oh I hear your request my friends and can't help but agree! Now applaud and brace yourself for a fight that should be more than entertaining. On my right! Kind Isma, who couldn't have found a name that would suit her less. And on my left...the one you all want to see..."

As he marked his dramatic pause, the gates on the other side of the arena opened, and a strong pong started to invade the circus, then what seemed to be a big bug rolled in a ball charged in. It then jumped into the air and the warrior uncurled himself, before slamming down and splattering dirt everywhere.

"The duuuuuuuung keeper!" 

With that the so called Dung Keeper let out a loud war cry as he hit his chest with his large claws. The gladiator was fairly tall and fairly large at that, a rusty metal chest plate covered his fluffy abdomen and two spiky horns crowned his head. When he finished his demonstration under the acclamations of the spectators, he looked at his opponent, with a somewhat friendly and joyful glint in his eyes.

All of a sudden, he rolled back into a ball and bolted towards the knight with a remarkable speed. She has just enough time to jump out of his way, but with an impressive manœuvre he managed to turn back around and charge at her once again. This time she couldn't avoid it and got thrown on one of the walls of the arena, under the cheers of the crowd and the alarmed look of her friends.

"Isma!"

"Isma are you alright?"

She saw that they were ready to jump inside of the ring, but simply held a hand in their direction to stop them. This time, as the Dung Keeper bolted at her once again, she twisted her arms into long and thick lianas, and started to whip him to keep him at bay. 

Alas, if her strategy was a good one, her opponent didn't have only one trick up his shell. He leaped into the air once again and dove right into the ground, disappearing underneath the drought dirt of the arena. And in a explosion of rocks and dust, he sprung up, and propulsedgigantic balls of earth all around him before diving back down. With swift slashes of her extensions, the plant chevalier was able to get rid of them, but almost got hit by her assailant. For someone who goes by the Dung Keeper, he was a skilled. 

This little game kept on going for a while, and Isma was growing tired. On the contrary, the other gladiator seemed more energetic than ever, laughing with genuine delight each time she managed to hit him, bouncing everywhere, sometimes shouting a word of encouragement to her, as "Come on!", "Nice try!", "Well done!"...what a strange character indeed. 

But sadly for the Dung Keeper, his fun was about to end, for his adversary had found a flaw in his patterns. 

The moment he jumped back into the air to roll at her, the Kind knight launched her vines at him and wrapped them tightly around his form, in such a way that he couldn't have uncurled himself even if he had tried to. Without missing a beat, she swung around, and with a formidable strength smashed her opponent into one of the wall of the arena. The impact was of such power that the spectators all let out an exclamation of surprise.

Yet Isma knew that one single impact, as powerful as it was, wouldn't help her get rid of her prey. And so with a scream she swung her prisoner up into the air and smashed him into the ground, her hold still tight. She swung again and smashed him on the floor again. And over, and over, and over, and over. 

At last, she rose her burden one final time, and the collision that followed was of such intensity that in formed a hole into the dirt covering the area. 

Slowly and shakingly, she retreated her lianas and stood motionless, if not for the ups and downs of her shoulders caused by her pantingsof exhaustion. For once, the crowd was dead quiet, every bug was on the edge of their seat. 

And then a deep laugh mixed with pained coughs shattered the silence.

"He should be dead...no one could have survived that!" Dryya whispered in shock. 

Hegemol remained silent, his eyes glaring at the Keeper who was still lying on the ground, shook by laughter. 

Isma for her part was as surprised as her fellow knights, if not more. She had given her all, and he was still up? 

While still he kept on chuckling with warmth, the Dung Keeper stood back up, yet less swiftly than before. He shook his head with amusement, and looked up at his adversary, then exclaimed with the same joy he had shown through their entire fight, this time tinted with restlessness. 

"Ah, what a grand rival you make! I fret for the ones who will have to face you." He took a few unsteady steps and sighed, "Alas, I don't think I'll be able to offer you much of a fight anymore, you beat me up faire and square!" And to the surprise of all, he kneeled before the champion. "I surrender and i bow to you. Do as you wish, I accept my fate." 

A few minutes had passed when the first voices rose up, demanding the knight to achieve her opponent. Quickly enough, others followed, and within a minute the entire Colosseum was roaring for blood. 

Isma had no idea what to do. She laid her eyes on the Dung Keeper, who was still kneeling. He seemed sincere, and she felt so. To admit defeat and yet not beg for mercy was a gesture of great honor, especially from someone supposedly as chaotic as the Dung Keeper. And for that, for his passion during their battle, for his admirable thoughness, she made her choice. 

With grace she walked up to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "A knight always spares a foe who surrenders. Stand up and live on, you have so much more waiting for you ahead."

Upon hearing that, the spectators booed and hissed, disappointed, while the two other knights let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. 

The Dung Keeper lifted his head, eyes full of surprise, and met the kind gaze of the winner. For a moment they shared a visual contact, deep and full of something foreign. Then Isma closed all of her six eyes and turned away, walking out of the arena, unfazed by the decries of the fools behind her. 

***********

"What a combat, dear Isma. You impressed me and terrified me all the same!" The fierce fencer snickered as her and her large companion joined their younger friend down in the resting area. 

"You showed a remarkable ferocity back there, I must admit." The giant added with a respectful nod. 

"I appreciate your praises my friends, but to be honest, the Dung Keeper put me through some troubles as well." The Kind champion replied with a smile. 

"You do look weary, friend. Come on, let's not stay around here any longer than what we need." Hegemol continued.

"Oh I am not sure I could bear yet another walk to the palace as of right now. I've heard some gladiators talk about a hot spring back there, I will rest there for a little while and join you when I feel less feeble."

Her companions had to agree with her and told her they would be waiting at the entrance of the Colosseum. She thanked them for their understanding and made her way to the springs.

Lucky her, no one was there. With a sigh of relief she sunk into the warm water, already feeling it filling her wounds with blessed liquid and healing her up. Her eyes closed, she listened to the sound of the water lapping against the smooth rocks of the cave. 

But her peace was disturbed by a sent too strong to be ignored. Her eyes shot open and prickles spawned onto her delicate arms out of reflex. And when she saw the new arrival, she couldn’t help but moved away from him by a few feet.

On the edges of the spring stood the Dung Keeper, his chest plate long gone, his fur dirty with dust and blood, and a surprise expression on his face. 

But quickly enough, he regained his jovial attitude and spoke to the knight “Oh! You, here? I had expected you to be on your way to you palace by now! Oh well. Mind if I join you?”

Isma wasn’t able to even respond to him. The beetle was acting as if they hadn’t just battled each other to death, which was disturbing and relaxing all the same. Instead of saying anything, the soldier patted the spot next to her, to which the new comer beamed. He slipped into the water and sat himself at a respectable distance of Isma. 

For a moment they rested in comfortable silence. That was before the Dung Keeper shattered it to bits with this cheerful voice of his. 

“I am quite surprised to find you here, you know? I didn’t think I had bashed you up that much!”

“You should have seen the other guy.” The lady replied with a thin smile.

At her response, the boastful bug bursted out of laughter. He seemed to be one to lose with grace, which Isma respected in an opponent.

Once he had calmed down, she continued. “But to be honest, you did indeed make my muscles ache, and covered my body in dust and dirt. I couldn’t have made it to the palace, and even if I had been able to, I would have been to ashamed by my appearance anyway.”

“Ashamed of your appearance? How could one as elegant as you could ever think such a thing about themselves?” He asked, and his remark didn’t sound teasing in the slightest, but genuine instead. The flustered chevalier didn’t even have the time to reply as he continued, “But I do apologize for the pain and troubles I’ve got you through. You just had this...aura of strength around you, I couldn’t resist but to give you my all.”

The plant champion nodded as a sign of acceptance. “I do apologize as well, I shouldn’t have-...”

“No! Please, don’t ask for any kind of forgiveness! I could never hold anything against a warrior as brave as you are! If anything, I should thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“Why yes! You’ve offered me a battle I won’t forget any time soon, and you spared my life as well. A incredibly rare sign of mercy in such a violent place.” The Dung Keeper exclaimed vigorously. 

What a strange character he was, Isma thought for what seemed the hundredth time of the day. Faced by her surprised gaze, the gladiator decided to break her out of her trance, and extended a claw in his direction.

“My name is Ogrim by the way, Dung Keeper is nothing but a stage name of course.”

The knight looked at his invitation for a hand shake, and wrapped her short fingers around his hook. “I’m Kindly Isma.”

“Or so I’ve heard.” Ogrim joked in reply, tearing a chuckle out of the lady. What a lovely laugh she had. 

Their conversation kept on going for a while. It was the most pleasant moment for the both of them, a brief and heartwarming break from the harshness of the world outside of their little hiding hole. But alas, all good things come to an end. 

Isma noticed with regret that her wounds were now healed, she had no excuses to stay any longer with her newly found companion. The chevalier let out a pitiful sigh, which surprised the other warrior.

“You seem upset, friend Isma.”

“Oh, do I?” She replied lowly, “Well, I guess I am. I should go back to my fellow knights now, my wounds are no more and my spirit is refreshed. What a shame, really.”

Under the saddened gaze of Ogrim, she swam to the edge of the springs, about to go. But she stopped in her tracks as she felt a thick claw rest on her shoulder.

“Say, milady, you surely will come back for a revenge, right?” The dung beetle asked, a hint of apprehension hidden underneath his buoyant tone.

“Of course I will, my friend.”

To that he smiled broadly and rose his claw from her arm, in order to let her go. She got out of the healing fountain, and started to walk away, before making a halt once again. 

“I’m sorry to leave on that, but I have to say it.” She looked at the warrior over her left shoulder, a her almond eyes full of malice, “Dung Keeper doesn’t sound right at all, it is oh so...I can’t quite put my finger on it. I would say, just a tad bit too simple. Try Dung Defender, won’t you? Much more melodic, mysterious, heroic...right?” 

And with that, she exited the resting room.

************

Isma was one to keep her promises. So as often as she would have the opportunity, she would hurry to the Colosseum of Foold and spar in the arena. Each time, Ogrim would ask to confront her after her first few fights. And each time, she would beat him fair and square, and show him mercy in the end.

It was only after several weeks of their little game that Ogrim decided to do something, something bold and unexpected, even from him.

The kind chevalier was making her way to her personal greenhouse within the palace, her round arms full of pots and bulbs, when she heard a suspiciously familiar laugh echo through the ivory white halls. 

The knight chose to head towards the noise, which leaded to the queen’s boudoir. As discreetly as possible, she sneaked a peek into the salon and her six eyes widened at her discovery.

Inside the sitting room, the Root was enjoying the company of quite the surprising visitor: Ogrim himself. He was apparently narrating one of his adventure to her majesty with his usual jolliness, and to Isma’s astonishment the pale goddess seemed to be taking great pleasure in listening to him, as she was giggling and smiling. 

After several seconds of being frozen in shock, the chevalier’s body felt weak and her arms went limp, leaving her burden to crash onto the marble ground. The sound of shattering pots made the white being and her visitor turn their head towards the source of the sound. And as soon as she recognized Isma, the pale lady’s face was painted with delight.

“Ah! My chevalier, my champion, my corm! Come, join us! Your charming friend besides me was just telling me about your first encounter! Quite the unusual one I must say.” 

Yet even though her majesty did not seem to be upset about this whole situation, Isma found her self unable to move, too unsteady on her feet to do so. Seeing her discomfort, the joyful expression on the Dung Defender’s slowly died down as he stepped towards his fighting partner. 

‘’ Milady, are you alright? You seem pale, and mortified. Is there a problem? ‘’

‘’ I...what in Hallownest are you doing here?’’ The plant champion responded, who had come back to her senses. 

‘’Why, isn’t the answer obvious?’’ Her bold friend replied with a chuckle, ‘’ I came here to see you! And, while we are talking about it, I also-...’’

‘’You can’t just!’’ Isma started before walking closer to him, her voice toned down to a whisper. ‘’You can’t just waltz in like if you owned the place! For our Wyrm’s sake, this is the white palace! And that’s her majesty the White Lady! And no one shall...wait a minute.’’ The knight took a step back, in a moment of realization. ‘’How did you even manage to make your way here?’’

‘’Oh, it was the most simple thing!’’ He retorted with a smile. ‘’See, I politely asked these fellow gentlemen before the gates of the palace if I could come in to visit you, they denied my request and started to make a fuss about it, so I pushed them aside and-...!’’

‘’You...pushed aside the royal guard?’’

‘’These fellow were the royal guard?’’

At his question, the pale Root let out a crystalline laugh, to the two others’ surprise. 

‘’Oh my! This is getting better by the second!’’

On one hand, Isma was sort of relieved to observe that her queen wasn’t upset to have been approached by such a person as Ogrim. On the other, she only came to the awareness that the queen had been approached by such a person as Ogrim.

‘’Ogrim...Ogrim what were you doing in her ladyship’s personal boudoir anyway? Do you even realize who she is?’’ The, supposedly, kind warrior hissed, causing her dear friend to step back.

The Root let out yer another snicker of amusement. “My darling, please do not chastise your bawcock, for I was the one to invite him in.”

“Pardon?”

“Well you see, from within my resting place, I felt him roam inside of our corridors. He felt lost, and unsure for someone so daring. And so I followed my instincts, and called him to my sides.” With her typical gentleness, the white queen made a motion with her hand to make them to come close to her. “Now, why not come and sit down. I think that our brave Ogrim has something he’d wished to talk to you about.”

Her mouth agape, the knight stayed speechless. She felt a large claw fall delicately on her shoulder, and met the beetle’s hopeful eyes. With a light sigh, she patted his hook and headed towards her majesty. The both of the lesser beings sat down in two of the large and thickly padded armchairs within the room, face to face, as the deity watched them from her own sofa. 

Gathering up his bravery, Ogrim sucked a breath in before explaining his reasons to come in the White Palace. “Isma...we’ve been doing this for a while now: you come to the Colosseum, we fight and you triumph. Each time. Day and night, I think about how nimble you are, how vigorous you are, how skilled you are, and your technics only seem to better as the days go by...and so I understood that contenting myself with only confronting you would never be enough if I hoped to one day offer you a worthy fight. So please, please...Isma, you who are so strong, teach me.”

A heavy silence fell upon their little assembly. A silence full of tension, expectations, confusion. Finally, after what felt like hours for the Dung Defender, the plump lady answered him with a shaky voice.

“Ogrim I...my dear...I don’t know if I’m...if I am allowed to...I have an oath of protection to honor, and I am not sure their royalties would accept-...”

“Oh Isma, my sweet.” This time, it was the matriarch who interrupted her, a hint of pity laced with gentle annoyance in her voice. “When a gentleman who got himself battered down by yourself times and times again, comes all the way down to somewhere as recluse as the White Palace, vanquishes all of the royal sentinels, and accepts to face the Queen in her very own boudoir just to ask you to train him, you do not reply with an ‘I don’t know if’. You accept.” 

“But, your elegance, his majesty the Pale King, and my oath...!”

“Cease that already! If my beloved has anything to say about this whole situation, I will make sure to convince him to leave you at peace. As for your oath, well, you vowed to serve me and obey me, is that correct? Then, I kindly demand you to follow your heart.”

To which the pale Root folded her arms against her chest, expecting her knight to take a decision. Isma turned he gaze to her companion, whose nervousness was practically tangible. She had to admit, she wished nothing more but to see him as often as she could, for a reason she ignored, and the look in his eyes told her that he felt all the same.

“Then I accept.”

**************

For a few months, the kind champion took the Defender under her wing, as her pupil. If Dryya showed herself particularly inhospitable towards her sister’s student, it didn’t stop him from being as jovial and as positive with her as he was with anyone else. And so, quickly enough, the slender fencer warmed up to his presence. 

Hegemol, for his part, at first stayed distant yet polite with the stranger. He was always a bit protective towards the youngest chevalier, but if she had put her faith in this strange fellow, then that was it. But as the mighty warrior realized how kind hearted Ogrim was, he started to consider him his friend. 

And so the Dung Defender had unintentionally worked his way in the three great knights’ heart, and as the days and the weeks went by, the four of them grew closer and closer, and the odorant lad’s technic improved. 

It had advanced so much, that one day, the student surpassed his teacher. Indeed, during one of their sparring session, Ogrim held such a fine fight, that the gentle champion found herself on the ground, unable to get up due to her muscles in much need of a rest. Her eyes half closed and her breath short, she felt the earth tremble beneath her as her brave friend walked up to her, and squatted down to her level.

“Why don’t stay here milady! I have a move up my shell I’ve been dying to show you!” He exclaimed merrily. 

“Oh, is that so?” The sweet plant giggled at the irony of the situation. “I would have loved to see it, but alas...I don't think I'll be able to offer you much of a fight anymore, you beat me up faire and square...” she sang song as she quoted her pupil. “I surrender and i bow to you. Do as you wish, I accept my fate."

Ogrim stared at his teacher, dumbfound. With a deep chuckle he extended a large claw to her, as to help her get up. "A noble fighter always spares a foe who surrenders. Stand up and live on, you have so much more waiting for you ahead."

She seized his outstretched hook and sat up, “If you must quote me, please to it correctly. I do not recall saying ‘a noble fighter’ but ‘a knight’.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t dare to name myself something I am not!”

“Well consider it a little preview of your future life...” a new voice came in, serene and majestic. “And do dare to name yourself such a thing.”

The both of them turned their heads in the direction of the new arrival, who was none other than the Pale King himself. 

“What do you mean?” Ogrim questioned, confused to no end. 

“Well, you didn’t expect I would let one of my three most powerful knight train a nobody like yourself without expecting any kind of compensation?” The Wyrm continued. “You have grown strong, and became quite conniving with the three of them. Furthermore, your fighting style, as...original as it is, could be a nice addition to their dynamic.” 

As he was talking, the pale ruler has inched closer to the duo, his vibrant aura almost hypnotic to the eyes of the dung beetle. “So. What do you think?”

************

Of course, without asking any further question and driven by the excitement of being able to stay with his close friends, he said yes. And now, as before him an impressive crowd was gathered, Ogrim felt himself happy to have accepted the white being’s proposition. He was grateful for everything that had happened to him: his duel with his adored Isma, the decision to go all the way to the palace, his encounter with the White Lady, the months of training...every events that had led him to were he stood now, besides his companions, behind the King he had learned to respect and the Root he felt an unconditional gratitude for. His puffed out his chest in pride, which made his shiny new armor gleam in the pearly light of the castle. His heart beat with delight as the god king spoke to the people. 

"My dear followers, I thank you for having traveled a long distance in order to present yourself to this ceremony. In this most glorious day, we celebrate the arrival of yet another valorous fighter of Hallownest to our ever growing army. Step ahead, my knight!"

As he was demanded to, Ogrim stepped ahead, his head high and his eyes filled with honor. He could feel the gazes of his companions on him: Dryya’s was somewhat full of pride, Hegemol’s was respectful and soft, and Isma’s was fond and caring. Once he arrived next to his monarch, he turned to him to face him.

"Kneel my fine fellow.”

The dung beetle obeyed, and the king for the fourth time drew his nail out. The nail shone, it was true, but somehow differently than before, in a way that noble could explain. It just seemed less of a weapon and more of a promise.The Wyrm then carefully put it on his champion round shoulder, then on the other one.

"For I am the King of the Kingdom of Hallownest, I hereby dub thee Sire Ogrim the Defender. Thee shall wear this name with pride, and until thee draw thy last breath stay loyal to the Kingdom and its King." 

With that, the King withdrew his nail and Ogrim the Defender stood up under the acclamations of the people and the delighted eyes of the royal couple and his fellow chevaliers, who calmly walked by his sides.

“I am so glad you came to the palace on this one day.” Kindly Isma declared heart fully.

“Indeed, it was getting quite boring here, and we were all in need of a new face.” Fierce Dryya added with a sly smirk.

“I would like to clarify what our ferocious comrade said here,” Mighty Hegemol continued. “We all feel blessed by your presence by our sides, and hope that you feel the same way, my friend.”

“Oh I do, my companions.” Ogrim The Defender responded, his heart beating so hard in his chest it hurt. “I do, much more than what you could ever imagine.”

***********

Lemm closed the journal with a happy grin. 

“Ah, just as I expected it to be. Unexpected, delirious, but heartfelt.” He set the diary aside and patted its cover. “Rare are the ones who share my opinion, but I do hold for The Defender some sort of reverence. Never knew why.”

This time, the neutral knight lifted his head slightly. It was as much of a reaction the Relic Seeker could ever expect out of them. This time, he didn’t even bother to comment on it.

“Well, it leaves us one final origin to explore.”

Carefully, he lifted the fifth and last journal. “Z”, for Ze’mer The Mysterious. By now, the old bug’s throat had grown tired, but in the name of his curiosity and history, he coughed and read. 

"Che’, Ze’mer The Mysterious, here lay meled’deepest thoughts and most personal story..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so, don’t @ me, but I just realized that (according to some sources) Ogrim’s title is “Loyal Ogrim”...but I still think that defender suits him well enough, since he is named the White Defender after all in his dream. Sooooo...yup.


	7. Wrapped in mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From lands far away, a people who loathes the gods comes to offer a poisonous gift.  
> And with them they brought another gift, that they didn’t know would end up being one.  
> Will she follow the will of her tribe? Will she try to betray the Wyrm as well?  
> Or will she bow and vow to be loyal?

Years went by, as the Kingdom’s influence had started to spread around the other lands. It wasn’t uncommon anymore to cross path with bugs who bore the strangest features: antennas so long they brushed against the ceilings of the corridors, colorful wings that clashed against the dark and cool tones of the rocks that composed the underground, faces and masks with too many eyes to be counted or sometimes none at all. 

Hallownest stood proud and mighty, it’s economy was flourishing and from far beyond its frontiers its name was whispered and praised. Many were the ones who tried to enter the King’s good graces by offering him gifts from faraway and foreign places. The shiniest jewels, the most exotic plants, the strangest animals, the finest artworks, everything that could be held and possessed and sometimes things that couldn’t be held nor possessed at all. 

It was once again one of these days. Kindly Isma and Fierce Dryya had been required to supervise the receiving of a present given by one of the kingdom outside of Hallownest, one of the most mysterious at that: Lands Serene. 

Several servants and soldiers from said lands were gathered in a small courtyard of the palace, under the observant eyes of the two champions. The visitors wererushing around what appeared to be a large cage covered with a thick sheet covered with elegant yet simple patterns. The foreigners were exchanging commands and informations with one another, completely oblivious to the knights’ presence. The cage, that presumably contained the present for their majesties, was creaking and shaking, as growls and howls escaped from beneath the blanket. 

“ It sounds...hazardous...and enraged at that.” The gentle chevalier whispered to her companion.

“You don’t say.” The other replied lowly, as her grasp on her weapon tightened. “I simply despise it when visitors offer creatures to the palace. It isn’t as if we needed any of these pesky things.” 

But as they were discussing, waiting for the preparations to come to an end, a wail of despair broke the air. Taken aback the sisters in arms turn to the source of the pitiful scream, only to notice that a newcomer had entered the courtyard by apparently disguising herself as a servant. 

The intruder shared commun attributes with the other members of the delegation: high in stature yet frail in appearance, with long and grey hair like wings that reached the ground. The lady was screaming in panic and anger at her fellow compatriots, who appeared to ignore her on purpose, sometimes granting her a side glance or an annoyed gesture before going back to their activities. 

Even if she didn’t give the impression of being a threat, she was still an nuisance, and it was the knights’ job to make sure no one would cause any sort of problem.

With an annoyed sigh, Dryya marched up to the interferer. “Madam? Could you please state your identity? I just want to make sure you are allowed to come here, which I don’t think you are.”

The strange bug turned around, a worried expression painted behind the thick locks of her mane. As she saw Dryya, the woman seized her shoulders with vigor and started to plead and beg with a high pitched voice. “Nahlo, Nahlo, le’mer wilt holp che far mel’ werning’s seemeth to beest wast’ on deaf eers!”

The fencer was shocked by the stranger’s gesture, but even more so by her incomprehensible gibberish. With a huff and a jerking motion, the knight attempted to break free from the other’s grasp, but it only seemed to toughened, almost to the point of hurt. 

“Unhand me at once!” 

“Me’hons doth nein und’rstand haw i’sponsible le’mer attampth o’ revenge ais, nahlo be’ive che, le’mer areth blind’d ba e hatred le’shan’t le’mer’s!”

“I told you to let go of me!”

As the white warrior tried to free herself, a member of the delegation grabbed the madwoman from behind and tore her away from her prey, which resulted in more pleas and screams as she kicked and struggled. 

“Prithee, me’hons, Nahlo, fraa le’mers fram le’hilding misprise a spareth ches fram yet anoth’r wer‘gainst le’gods! Ullll Waaaaaai!” 

As her long and pitiful wail echoed in the courtyard, the intruder was being dragged outside by two members of the commission of lands serene, who did not even blessed her with a look. 

As soon as her comrade had been freed, Isma had rushed to her sides in worry. “My dear friend, are you alright? Are you harmed in any way, shape or form?”

“What a savage! Does this nuisance even know who she was dealing with? Curse her and her nonsense of a language!” Dryya seethed with anger as she rubbed her shoulder in an attempt to tune done the numb pain she was feeling. 

“Cursing already? Thanks the Wyrm you’re fine.” 

“Ah, che’ladies!” One of what seemed to be the dirigeants of the representatives exclaimed as he walked up to the knights. “Che apologizes fer le’mers’...friend’s behavior. Highly inappropriate Che fear le’mer was, but please do not mind le’mer’s demeanor, it is nothing to worry about, ai. Always been this way, will never change, Nahlo.”

Before the stormy champion could spit her venom, Isma replied with a smile and a nod. “Do not mind it, no harm was caused. But pray tell, why did this gentlewoman appeared to be in such distress?”

If one had been an observant witness, they could have seen the look of panic that flashed on the representative’s face before being buried under a calm and friendly expression. “Ah, ai, che’understand le’mer’s interrogation. See, le’mers’ fellow companion has always been against...lesser bugs traffic. Even if, do nat worry, le’mers take great care of our creatures, no harm done none at all, our friend still stands against these.”

As the gentle champion nodded in understanding, the representative hastily changed the topic of their conversation and informed the two royal warriors that the preparations were coming to an end, and that their presence wasn’t required anymore. And while the chevaliers walked out of the courtyard, the mustered pestering of Dryya following in their path, the legislator’s amiable expression melted into a cruel scowl. 

***************

In a most private ceremony, that only included their pale majesties, the five knights, and the closest courtiers of their royal rulers, the Pale King and his White Lady were expecting the arrival of the delegation. 

To the Wyrm, it might be one of the most important political meeting he had ever had to live, for the kingdom of Lands Serene wasn’t exactly known for their “serenity” when it came to higher beings. Their hostility was of such strength that in their land, and only theirs, had grown a flower that had the power to destroy the very essence of any superior creature: the delicate flowers. But as far as he could tell, his interactions with the representatives of said nation had been nothing but amiable. The white monarch was almost surprised by their cooperative behavior, if not suspicious. 

Seeing that her adored husband had something on his mind, the Root took advantage of the lack of current activity to question him with the softest voice possible. “My beloved, you appear to be bothered by something. Is there anything I could do in order to appease your mind?”

“Oh, forgive me my love.” The king replied, his dark eyes still clouded with worry. “It is simply that...I can’t quite put my claw on it. Something seems...strange to say the least.”

“Is that so? Tell me my lambkin, is it your foresight that is warning you? Could something regrettable happen?”

Alas the Wyrm didn’t have the time to answer his Culver’s question, as the doors of the throne room opened. A procession composed of the foreign servants entered, followed closely by the gigantic cage that their carried with thick chains. In a manner that could recall one of an elegant yet slow dance, they bowed before the two royals and their chevaliers, and proceeded to install the mysterious crate just in front of them, at the bottom of the stairs that lead to the thrones. 

A religious silence fell, and the head delegate positioned himself just besides their glorious gift, which shook in the most worrying manner. 

“Pale King, Oh divine ruler of Hallownest, and White Lady, deity of life and fertility, ny see le’mers honored to be able to represent lemers’ people before ny. Far the longest time a puerile quarrel has been lead between ny’s kind and le’mers’, and such a thing must come to an end.” The legislator said, his voice full of respect, yet still carrying some sort of oddity to it. “But today, che hope it will be so. For ny, oh pale gods, a present, that che hope will well enough describe the feeling we hold fer ny.”

As he said his last words, the rest of the delegation started to slowly walk away from the cage. Hegemol felt like he was the only one to notice it, and was about to warm his king, but was stopped by a question from the White Root.

“Pray tell, my friend, what feeling to you hold for us?”

At her query the stranger smirked, his mandibles twisted in a sick grin, as his claws gripped the thick sheet that covered the present.

“Nothing but the darkest hatred.”

With a swift movement of his long and slender arm, he pulled the fabric away and revealed the creature that rested inside of the crate. It was gigantic, with a dozen of grey eyes that burnt with ferocity, a beak so large it could swallow a bug with one bite, and so many lengthy limbs they were impossible to count. Hit by the glowing light of the palace, the monster shrieked the most piercing scream, one that created deep cracks into the stained-glass windows of the throne room. 

As soon as the beast screeched, the servants, who now stood far behind the crate, pulled the chains in a way that made the opening of the cage burst open. Without missing a beat, the monstrous being bounced out and charged towards the royal couple.

Too shocked to react, the two god beings would have had to deal with the terrifying claws of the monstrosity if it hadn’t been for Hegemol to jump in its way. The mighty knight took the hit as well as he could, and felt his armor of pale ore bend inward with the impact, pressing against the shell underneath, right on his old scar.

With a pained grunt he locked his large arms around the head of the beast, in order to maintain it in this position. Before his demonstration of strength, the cruel expression of the head representative was whipped away by panic. The traitor hastily made a sign to his compatriotes to flee away while they still had the time, which they did without looking back. 

The behemoth on the other hand was struggling. 

“I won’t be able to hold it back much longer!” He yelled to his brother and his sisters in arm.

Brought to reality, they got into action. Isma quickly escorted the royals away from the impressive wrestling that was taking place mere feet away from them, as Dryya and Ogrim jumped to one side of the monster each. 

The fencer and the defender leaped at it, large claws and sharp needle ready to kill, but to no avail. Their blows didn’t seem to make much of a difference, and their giant of a friend was starting to give in, his shoulders shaking and his breath short. 

“Hold on for a little bit longer my friend!” The White Defender exclaimed, in an attempt to encourage his companion. “We will find its weak point!”

“Fool! We obviously won’t, or at least not in time! He will do nothing but harm himself!” The needle wielder replied with a hiss.

And she was right, thought the large knight. “Isma!” He yelled over the top of his lungs, “Come over here and give me an hand!”

As soon as she was given the order, and that she was sure that her king and queen were far away enough from the fight, the kind knight jumped in and wrapped her creepers all around the creature. When she seemed to be steady on her feet, the Mighty champion let go of the beast, took a step back and dealt it a violent punch right in one of its eyes.

The monster let out a pitiful squeal, which was interrupted by yet another blow from Hegemol. As the thing recoiled and whined, the giant extended a hand without taking his eyes off the beast.

“My mace! Hand it to me so I can finish it!”

Ogrim noticed his comrade’s weapon laid down beside the king’s throne, where he had dropped it in order to stop the monstrosity. The defender jumped towards the discarded armament, but to no avail, as the wild creature had recovered more quickly than expected. With a snap of its sharp beak, it broke its thorny restraints enough to allow it to jump onto Hegemol, knocking him onto the ground. 

The air was forced out of his lungs with the impact. Dazed and half knocked out, he prayed for a miracle to happen.

And for once in his long life, the gods seemed to listen. 

A blade longer than a fully grown bug was tall flew right into the back of the beast, and landed precisely in the crack that marked the separation between its elytra. A deafening screech escaped from its beak, and it stumbled backwards in pain. 

All of the eyes in the room turned in the direction of where the sword had erupted from. 

And in the glorious entrance of the room stood the mysterious woman from before, towering with her grey hair floating around her svelte form. She stood tall and proud, her face cold and her hidden eyes focused on her target. 

But the beast once again recovered from its injury and stood back up, hissing and growling. Its crazy eyes were rolling from one bug to another, and it seemed to understand it was now outnumbered. And from its back sprouted two pairs of translucent wings, with edges sharper than knives, with some apparent difficulties as the impressive blade was still shoved deep inside its spine. 

“Be’ol! Le’s goi ta fleeth ‘way!”

But none of the knights could comprehend her warnings, and the monstrosity did as she told and lifted itself up with the strength of its wings before hurling itself into one of the windows and flying away.

“Ullll Waaaaaaaai!”

The stranger wailed out of exasperation and without granting even a look to the knights or the royals, she leaped towards the broken window and before anyone could interfere, defenestrated herself. 

“For the love of-...!” Dryya screamed as she rushed at the aperture. Under the shocked and curious looks of her comrades and majesties, she searched for any sign of the, supposedly, falling lunatic, but found none. As if she had vanished. 

“Move aside! I still can catch-...!” Isma quipped as she hurried by her fierce companion’s sides. 

“There is no use. She is nowhere to be seen.” Said friend interrupted her.

“Pardon?”

“I have no idea as to where she might have gone, but she is no more here.”

“Could she have flown away?” 

“I hope she did, for her own sake.”

“For ours as well.” Hegemol added from where he lied, Ogrim knelt by his side. “She found its weak point, and seemed to know how to handle this creature. If there is one person who could hold a fight against it, it would be her.”

At that he tried to stand up, but could only let out a groan. The defender, who was still by his side, saw with horror fat drops of black blood slide out of his armor, through the cracks between the plates that composed it.

“Hegemol! You are hurt!”

“Hm? Oh.” The mighty knight grazed a hand over the now fairly abundant stream of dark blood. “Ah, it is but a scratch. Now come on, help me stand up, for we have to follow this beast...”

“Do not even think about doing such a thing, my old friend.” Spoke the Pale King, as he approached his injured chevalier, worry and anger painted over his usually calm face. 

“My King, with all due respect, you’ve seen me go through far worse and...”

“And this is no reason to brush it off. How dare they...these traitors, these blisters, hurt my most ancient knight...” the Wyrm muttered and hissed, as he also knelt near his giant of a champion “I should have been more careful, I knew something felt suspicious...And yet, my silliness allowed them to strike...”

The monarch extended his claws and put his hand against where the blood came from. It has been a fair while since they had to face any sort of opposition, and the return of a threat, one that none of his subjects knew how to handle, made the Wyrm fear the worst for a moment. 

“Fierce Dryya.” He called out, his tone somber and cold. “Go and give the order to the guards to remain vigilant and investigate the kingdom. Tell them the hunt for the beast has begun, and the hunt for our guests from Lands Serene as well. No prisoners are needed, for they are a threat to us for as long as they still breath.”

“All...All of them?” She murmured, as she threw glance at the broken window.

“Did I stutter?”

The needle wielder was about to retort something, about how it was maybe not such a grand idea to kill the mysterious lady, but Isma gently took her hand, as if to quiet her. And the plant knight was right, it was no moment to contradict the Wyrm. Dryya swallowed back her words and bowed respectfully before leaving the room.

The Pale King has yet to lift his hand from his champion’s armor, for it still lingered on the fresh trails of black substance. “Kindly Isma, lead my Root to our shared wing, and make sure to keep her safe. Defender Ogrim, go and guide your injured comrade to the royal infirmary, so he can recover.”

At their monarch’s commands, the chevaliers obeyed and did as they were told. The kind knight gently put a comforting hand on her queen’s large shoulder before guiding her outside, as the faithful defendant helped his friend to rise up, without too much troubles, thanks to his formidable strength.

As the four remaining witnesses left the room in silence, the white ruler let out a deep sigh and sat on the stairs he was kneeling on. What a dreadful day, he though to himself, while he contemplated his palms, darkened with blood.

In the meantime, the two beetles were making their way down the infirmary. The behemoth was staggering along the way, his walking pace slow and careful.

“I can not believe you got hurt that nastily, friend.” The defendant said, in genuine surprise. “This armor of yours is tough, and your shell even more so.”

“It is, you are right, but this old scare of mine has always been my weakness...and unfortunately, it is where my armor bent, effectively wounding me.”

The dung beetle nodded in understanding. It was a bit disturbing for him to see his titan of a companion in such distress. Hurtful, almost. And so, he hurriedly changed the subject of their conversation, in hope to lighten the mood.

“The king surely seemed to worry for you! It warms my heart to see that the two of you are so close, after all everybody must know so, for you have been at his service for such a long time!”

Oh, how naive he was...

“You really think it is out of pure affection for me our Wyrm was angered?” Hegemol huffed, his eyes full of something the Defender could only identify as bitter pain, but his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “Hah! I am but merely another embodiment of his power. Harming me means harming his honor. Do not mistake a bruised ego for worry over a friend.”

Ogrim wasn’t sure he had heard his friend right. Surely, these words he said meant something else? Or maybe it was a mix of pain and blood loss that made him babble such sacrilegious remarks. Yes, surely it had to be that. And so, without adding anything, the two comrades kept on walking.

***********

Days passed and the hunt kept on. The beast caused havoc everywhere it went, but as soon as the mysterious warrior were to be seen, it would disappear. Both of them were elusive, slipping through the hands of the royal soldiers like water. As for the rest of the delegation, no trace of them had been left. 

After a week of this exhausting game of cat and mouse, the five knights were finally able to obtain informations concerning the precise whereabouts of the monster.

“The mantis village?” The White Lady questioned from her throne, quite surprised by the news.

“It was reported that the creature seemed to be making its way there, my queen.” Dryya confirmed to her rulers.

“Well then, let’s not waste anymore time than necessary.” The Wyrm spoke. “Do not bother taking any guard with you, for their incompetence will only allow this poisonous gift to flee away once more. The four of you should be sufficient. Now go, and bring me its head on a silver plate.”

The great knights bowed before their lord and turned away, ready to go, but Hegemol came to a halt. “The mantis village you said?”

“Why, yes, I reckon so.”

“Pity then. I can not go.”

“Pardon? Why would you say such a thing?” Ogrim exclaimed.

“Due to various...missions I have be assigned in the past, my relationship with the members of the mantis tribe is nothing but tensed. Even if I were to wish to protect their very existence, they would not allow me to go further than the gates of their territory. And Isma...” the mighty champion continued, turning to his leafy sister in arm. “I suggest that you don’t go as well.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The behemoth didn’t have to finish his explanation, for the queen got ahead of him, understanding what his point was. “...Because they wouldn’t recognize you as your own person, but as my creation. Thereupon, they wouldn’t respect you, and wouldn’t allow you inside.”

“Await...are you to tell us that only Ogrim and myself can go inside of the village? That is but insanity! The two of us weren’t even able to scratch its shell, even when it was restrained by the two of you!” The fierce fencer pleaded, clearly irritated by the situation at hand.

“I don’t think we have much of a choice here.” Tried the giant. “The mantises still view you as one of their own. As for Ogrim, his passed exploits in the Colosseum were impressive enough for him to be known even by this clan of warriors.”

“The matter is sealed then.” The King interjected before Dryya could protest any further. “Fierce Dryya, Defender Ogrim, you two will be the ones to take care of this beast’s slaying. You are skilled enough to know how to handle it, and you know its weak point. Now go.”

The needle wielder couldn’t say anything else, and so for once she took example on Hegemol and said nothing. The dung beetle and herself bowed once again and were about to leave the throne room when the white monarch interrupted them.

“And don’t forget. If you are to cross the traveler of Lands Serene’s path, kill her on sight.”

***********

Fortunately, the two knights were able to make their way inside of the mantis village without any troubles. But once inside, they were surprised to not observe any sign of the monstrosity’s presence.

“How strange...” the defender said. “Are you sure it was supposed to head here?”

“There is no other place it could be. Let’s at least warn the lords, for maybe they could provide us some kind of information.”

Wary and careful, both of them pursued to walk to the den of the Lords, where the four siblings tended to train and remain. As they arrived to the thrones room, they were faced with the brother of the four lords. Dryya’s expression twisted into a sneer as she saw him. If it had been one of the triplets, the task would have been much easier, for they had always lent the fencer an ear. But the eldest of the quartet had always been a pain to deal with. And the feeling seemed to be mutual, since as soon as the mantis lord saw her and her odorant companion, his mandibles started to emit clinks of displeasure.

“Ah. So you have finally returned, frail little grub. And with a friend at that...how thoughtful. Did you miss us that much?” He spate out with a scowl. 

“I certainly did not miss you.”

“And I for one am happy to see that you consider me your friend of some sort!” Ogrim interfered with his usual jolliness, even though it seemed to hide a hint of stress underneath. “Anyway, that is not today’s matter.”

“...Well, what is it then? Pray tell, what made you two crawl out of your palace of luxury and passiveness?”

“In case you haven’t heard-...”

“I haven’t.”

“...Alright then, in case you haven’t heard, a wild creature brought but the delegation of Lands Serene has been roaming free in Hallownest for the past few days, and according to our sources it appeared to have traveled all the way down your territory.”

“Ah, is that so?” The mantis’s expression changed into a mocking smirk, as he bent down in such a manner that his mask was but a few inches away from Ogrim’s face. “Terrible sources you must have, for you are wrong. We haven’t seen any signs of a so called beast, and if we had, we surely wouldn’t have allowed it to “roam free in Hallownest”. But don’t be vexed, it’s not like every bug could declare themselves as being as much of a skilled warrior as us mantises are.”

But as Dryya opened her mandibles to give this insolent a piece of her mind, a hair rising shriek echoed through the corridors of the village, quickly followed by a feminine voice screaming in horror. How strange, thought the fencer, for this voice reminded her of...

“My daughter!”

The lord’s face morphed into pure fright as he identified the cry as his cherished infant’s. Without a care in the world he pushed the knights out of his way and ran to the origin of the sound. The Kong’s champions exchanged a look and chased after him. 

Soon enough they arrived to the scene. Indeed, the arrogant ruler’s daughter was cowering against a wall that ended one of the halls of the underground village. And she had an acceptable reason to do so for the traitorous present of the delegation stood before her, hissing and taking its sweet time frightening the helpless dame, its wings spread out, and the sword of the enigmatic visitor still shoved deep inside its back.

When the chevaliers arrived, the lord was already charging at the monster, his long spear that he had hidden underneath his tegminas already ready to kill. With a ferocious yell tried to stab the creature’s translucent wings, but to his bewilderment it only slid onto the thick surface...but it did catch the monstrosity’s attention. 

The beast shifted around, and set his twelve dead eyes, one still closed after his battle against the knights, directly onto the mantis brother. And in a matter of seconds, it sent him fly against the rock hard walls with one blow of its gigantic legs. The ruler landed against the rough surface with a sickening crack, and his unconscious form fell to the ground, under the terrified screams of his heir. 

“Well, here goes our surprise effect.” Dryya bitterly groaned, as the attention of the creature was now fully on them. “Ogrim, try to keep its focus on you, I might have an idea.”

“You can count on me!” He cheered, and slammed his claw against his shell.

The defender then proceeded to curl himself into a ball and launched himself at the beast. As it tried to catch him, the loyal warrior buried himself in the ground, and started to jump in and out of it in order to confuse his opponent, while efficiently avoiding any hit. For one so imposant, he was quite agile.

As her companion was keeping the monster’s attention on him, the fencer sneaked around the creature, in order to face its back. Alas, the thing held itself high, and from her own height, she couldn’t reach the blade. As she was trying to plan a way to get up there, she felt a thin tarsus land on her shoulder. The champion turned around to see the lord’s daughter standing behind her, her eyes full of apprehension but shining with determination.

“Dryya...do you require my assistance?”

With a thin smile the fair wielder acquiescenced. “If you could throw me on its back, it would be a grand help.”

The pale mantis nodded before presenting her front legs to her aunts and father’s student. Dryya carefully put herself on the lady’s claws, and as soon as she was ready, the young mantis launched her into the air. With the gracefulness that defines her, the needle wielder landed onto the monster’s abdomen, face to face with the gigantic sword. 

If she managed to tear the blade out of the beast’s body, the creature would probably die from its injury, or at least be injured enough to be slaughtered. With a deep inhale, Dryya plunged her own weapon into the grey flesh, to use it as a lever...but it was no use for the saber was so far into the monster’s body that her strength alone couldn’t have changed anything at all.

Well, it did change a thing. Now the thing was fully aware that someone was on its back, and trying to cause it harm at that. It howled loudly before shaking its entire body with all its might. Even if she gathered all of her vigor into remaining were she stood, Dryya was thrown away to roll in the dirt that covered the ground, disarmed. 

This sudden agitation has caused the monstrosity to turn around and lock eyes with the mantis lady, whose gaze was now empty of any kind of determination. As the creature shrieked and as she noticed the chevaliers were too far away to come to her aid, the maiden accepted her fate and closed her eyes in resilience.

And yet, appearing from the darkness, her savior leapt herself onto the beast’s back. Ogrim, from where he stood, recognized the newcomer: the grey warrior of the serene tribe. 

In a manner that showed she knew how to handle this kind of opponent, the mysterious fighter seized her sword and instead of getting it out, leant backwards, casing the blade to slice all the way down the abdomen of the monster like if it had been nothing but soft butter. As the saber sliced the beast in half with relative ease, the monster let out a pitiful wail of profond suffering, before collapsing on the ground in a cloud of dust and golden blood. 

All were silent, and none dared to move. The traveler let out a deep sigh and drew her mighty yet bloody weapon out of the remains, emitting a disgusting sound. Seemingly unfazed, she walked up to the frightened lady under the aghast eyes of the defender, who was still observing the scene from afar. As she arrived near the mantis, she knelt and offered her a hand.

“Art le’mer unherm’d?”

Of course, her only response was a look of confusion. But the dame accepted the help nonetheless.

“I...I’m not sure as to what you’ve just said but...I am alright, thanks to you, milady.” The elegant bug spoke and bowed down, causing a faint blush to appear on the stranger’s hidden face.

“Ah...t’es but nathin’. T’wes che’s ow’ duty ta slayeth th’ beast aft’r ell.”

But their moment of some sort was quickly interrupted by the fierce knight, who seemed to have gained consciousness while their exchange took place. “Y...You! You are the lunatic from before I reckon?”

If she was unable to make herself understood, the mysterious hunter seemed to be able to get a hold of what others stayed, and confirmed the fencer’s question with a nod.

“Che’am forsooth.”

As she did her best to stand up, Dryya glanced at her comrade, who shared the same look as herself. Should they really obey the Pale King and slay her, or should they show her gratitude for she did not seem to share the same attentions as her people. It was Ogrim who took the decision for the two of them.

“Well, we must thank you as well, enigmatic combatant.” The buoyant champion declared as he bowed before her, soon after followed by his companion. “May you grace us with your name, mysterious traveler?”

“Ze’mer.”

“Is that your name?”

“Ai.”

“Well then, victorious Ze’mer,” the beetle continued. “For you have defeated the trap offered to our king by your people, consider yourself a respected hunter in our eyes.” 

Ze’mer was at lost as to what to do. She had half expected the knights to try and punish her for her tribe’s assassination attempt, but was relieved nonetheless. That was until yet another one gained his consciousness back. 

“Argh...what...what happened?” The mantis lord groaned. 

When she saw that her father had recovered, the dame hurried by his sides with a cry of glee.

“Ah! Father! My dear father! You are back with us! Oh how much I feared, never do that to me ever again!” She lamented through tears of joy. 

Confused but content with seeing his beloved daughter unharmed, the lord wrapped his claws around her. He then looked up at the three-...wait...three?

“Who is that?” He questioned, his typical aggressive demeanor back for the world to see. 

“Ah! Doth net fret, nym’sir, che’nat e threat ta le’mer ner any h’re!”

“I beg you pardon?”

“What she, probably, meant my lord,” Dryya interrupted “was that you shouldn’t be afraid of her, for she has come to our aid in this battle, and saved your heir from the claws of this creature.”

“Is that so?” He wondered, to which the grey warrior nodded. “Huh, who could have thought one as slender as you could take down such a beast...admirable in some way.” The lord rose up on his legs, still unsure of his balance but helped by his child. “Well then, knights of Hallownest, I surely hope you will find a way to congratulate this fair maiden, for she has shown herself more capable than you and I combined. As for you, stranger, I will tell my tribe about your masterstroke. Feel welcomed to join us as often as your heart will wish to. With that.”

And to everyone’s surprise the proud mantis bowed lowly, before heading towards the exit of the tunnel, with the assistance of his child, who threw a gentle yet timid smile at Ze’mer. 

With that remained Dryya, Ogrim and the traveler...and the corpse of the beast, but this one won’t have much of a part anymore. 

The brother and sister in arms were exchanging awkward looks. Tired of this useless uneasiness, the dung beetle broke the ice.

“Well, we will have a lot of explaining to do!”

“What do you mean?” The needle wielder asked in confusion.

“Why, the lord is right! She deserves to be rewarded for her heroic actions! The least we can do is to lead this fine lady to his Majesty and explain him how she, obviously, is no threat to us.”

“We can not just do that! He ordered us to-...! You...you know.”

If Ogrim knew, the grey warrior guessed what the fierce combatant meant. “Nahlo, che’does nat mean any harmeth ta th’Wyrm, ‘nd coequal wenteth ‘gainst Che’s clan’s shall in ‘rd’r ta avoideth a kind af hostility!”

“For the last time, we do not know what you are saying.” Dryya exhaled with annoyance.

“Hah! Maybe you don’t but I do!” Ogrim exclaimed with pride, causing the hunter to look at him with hope. “This damsel is clearly asking her to take her to the palace as I had suggested! Which is a grand idea, for I truly think we should grant her a thing the King only offers to the ones who have shown themselves strong enough to rival with us!”

“Oh please don’t tell me-...”

“We should ask for his Majesty to dub Ze’mer here present as his fifth knight!”

Dryya facepalmed at her comrade’s suggestion, but it was already too late. He had seized the traveler’s wrist, who for her part didn’t seem that thrilled about this whole idea, and was dragging her along the way, babbling about how much of an honor it was, and how he could already picture her besides his friends and himself. 

*************

It did indeed take a lot of explaining from the two knights to make their monarch even consider the option of dubbing the grey lady. But as he was presented with how wonderfully she had fought, how the mantis brother himself had acknowledged her strength, and how accepting her as his knight would grant him some sort of protection and expertise when I would come to dealing with the people of Lands Serene, the Wyrm has to agree. And deprived of any other form of shelter, Ze’mer accepted as well. 

And so there she stood, high on the promontory of the castle, placed with the four great knights of Hallownest and behind the god rulers. A dense crowd was gathered, so many people that Ze’mer could have never thought as many bugs were even alive in the first place, for Lands Serene was not a territory of many souls. And all of these absolute strangers were starring at her, who shone with her hair like wings dyed white with delicate powder, in order to match the rest of the chevaliers. Strangely enough, even if all of this seemed to strange to her eyes, she didn’t feel like a misfit in the slightest, unlike when she had been with her clan. From deep inside her heart murmured this little voice, whispering to her that she was now where she belonged, with the ones who will be more of a family that the one she had left behind her. 

"My dear followers, I thank you for having traveled a long distance in order to present yourself to this ceremony. In this most glorious day, we celebrate the arrival of yet another valorous fighter of Hallownest to our ever growing army. Step ahead, my knight!"

Still trying to get a flawless understanding of the language of Hallownest, Ze’mer didn’t immediately get what was asked out of her, and Dryya, who remained by her side, gently pushed her onwards, with a encouraging smile. 

"Kneel my new companion.”

The tall lady obeyed, and the king for the fifth time drew his nail out. And oddly enough, every single bug present felt some sort of feeling of finality, as if they all sensed that this glorious weapon was about to baptize its last knight. The Wyrm then carefully put it on his champion round shoulder, then on the other one.

"For I am the King of the Kingdom of Hallownest, I hereby dub thee Lady Ze’mer the Mysterious. Thee shall wear this name with pride, and until thee draw thy last breath stay loyal to the Kingdom and its King." 

With that, the King withdrew his nail and Ze’mer The Mysterious rose up under the acclamations of the people and the respectful eyes of the knights, who calmly walked by her sides.

“Most joyous day, isn’t it! To have a grand fighter as you join us is but a blessing!” Ogrim The Defender cheered with a laugh.

“I for one can not wait for you to show us your skills, for our friend Ogrim has been saying nothing but praises about them. Even Dryya slid a comment or two about your talent, which is something to behold.” Hegemol The Mighty added, in a much softer manner than his jolly comrade.

“Quiet you! And cease to present me as some sort of cold hearted fighter.” Dryya The Fierce bit back.

“You like it though, and don’t deny it.”

Before the svelte fencer could retort anything, Isma The Kind spoke. “I agree with my hulk of a friend! I can not wait to learn more about you, my friend.”

Friend? It was long ago that Ze’mer The Mysterious had had this term used to qualify her, in a genuine way that is. Her face lit up behind her thick locks of hair. And she used this occasions to take advantage of the new words she had learnt to say during the past few days. 

“Thank...you....my....friends.”

*************

On these final words, Lemm closed the fifth journal. Now, he knew more than he had ever hoped to discover about the five legendary knights.

“By the Wyrm...and there is yet so much to get out of these dairies!”He blurted to the wanderer. 

Said nuisance looked up at him and gently taped their hands against the counter.

“Aye, calm down! It looks like what they wrote next is a complete mess...I would need to study these relics further in order to drain any valuable information from them...and yet, it seems as there are such a lack of information at times...” deep in thought, the Relic Seeker scratched his thick beard. “I will need a few days...maybe more...Gods, it really looks like a mess in there... I for once could use some help...but you are illiterate, and I know for a fact that no one around here could help me...well, you will have to wait.”

But the thing was, the ghost of Hallownest wasn’t known to be patient. The gears turned inside this hollow head of theirs, before their eyes lightened (to some extent) with a new idea. 

Without explaining anything, they jumped from their seat and ran out of the store.

They did indeed know a bug who could be called an expert when it comes to the Five Great Knights. 

After all, what better expert about such a thing could exist if not one of the knights?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Writer here!  
> Boy was this chapter long to write! Sorry for the wait! I just had to take care of my new account on tumblr, awful-little-goose. If you want to know, I post some fan art of Hollow Knight but also of various other fandoms. 
> 
> Speaking of fan arts, if do indeed go check out my account, you might stumble upon some stuff that are related to an au I imagined and will or will not write about later on!
> 
> As for the next chapter, it will be an “update” chapter, that might interest you...or not. Once again, thank you for reading, and don’t forget to leave kudos and comment if you have some nice stuff to say!
> 
> Bye!


	8. Update (you can read it, might make things easier for you, or don’t read it. I’m a title not a cop)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That’s...that’s just an update

Hi folks!

This is, as stated before, an update chapter that might interest you.

As you saw in the last chapter, the “part 1” of this fic is done. You know, the part where I wrote like, the origin story of each knight? Yes, this part.

What comes next? Sadness!

I’m not kidding, I will make you suffer. Because now, we are going to go for the downfall of Hallownest, how everyone became sad and parted ways, how the knights handled this crisis (spoiler: badly) etc etc...

So yeah, this book can be separated in two parts, at times interrupted by “present time” chapters or interludes. And the next chapter (featuring a character we all love) will be released within the week. Also! As you might have (or might have not) noticed, the number of chapters will be of 16 in total! Yay! I have so much work ahead oh my Wyrm kill me.

Either than that, I am about to start writing a brand new fic (I guess it’s gonna be a fic? I have no idea yet) based on an au I created: Queen of Nothing au, which will revolve about the white lady and what would have happened if she had gotten sick of waiting in her garden. 

If you want to learn more about it, go check out my tumblr, awful-little-goose, on which I’ve already posted a few drawings and thrown a few ideas concerning this au! And please, if you want to write stuff or draw stuff about it, don’t bother asking me. Just do it, and you’ll make my day!

So yeah! That’s basically it!

Also, could you guess who my favorite knight is? I think it’s pretty obvious. And you, who is your favorite character so far?

Also, if you have any questions (since I know I left many little things that could be quite confusing, such as some of Hegemol’s remakes in the two last chapters for instance) don’t hesitate to ask! And if you have any criticism or suggestions, go ahead!

Thank you once again for reading, and see you later!


	9. Memories, oh memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knows that the best historian is the one who actually was there when it all happened

Light as the wind, the steps of the little knight echoed within the canals of the royal waterways. At times in childishness they purposely jumped into a puddle here and there, taking some pale copy of satisfaction in how far the droplets of water would fall. But quickly enough, the ambiance changed. The air became thick, full of a heavy and revolting scent that could make some flee away. Soon after, the walls took a brownish tint, and enormous balls of dung were stacked here and there, sticked to the ceiling or piled up and a strangely careful manner.

The only thing that was missing were the jovial exclamations the ghost of Hallownest had heard on their first visit. It was a profond disappointment really, for the vessel had hoped to perceive them this time. 

Before the wet silence that filled the area, the knight couldn’t help but recall in this hollow head of theirs their ultimate battle against the exiled defender. Or, more exactly, against his former form, who did not hesitate to show the ghost the strength that he once had.

Since that day, the dung beetle had disappeared for good. No trace of him was left, but these obnoxious sculptures and this putrid odor. And of course, deeper in the underground, the treasured one he had protected for centuries. The knight had tried times and times again to find him again, but to no avail. Yet why would they be here if they already knew he wouldn’t show up? The knight had no idea, and yet their feet plunged deeper and deeper into the feces that covered the ground as they kept on walking.

At last, they arrived in the den of the Dung Defender, once known and respected as Defender Ogrim, or Loyal Ogrim to some. During his days of glory, he had been known for his joyous personality and...erhm...uniqueness. But as the years passed, as Hallownest crumbled underneath its own weight and the foolishness of the Wyrm, he was forgotten. 

How sad, truly, the ghost would have thought if they had owned a mind of their own. All they did instead was remaining still for a few minutes, waiting for something to happen. But nothing happened. It was no use, they knew it, and yet...

In silence they walked onward, and arrived before the hole that contained the ancient chevalier’s hideaway. Without truly minding the putrid mud that sticked to their cloak, they jumped and landed on a pile of dung with a wet splash. They did not even bless the room that contained the effigy of the Pale King a look, and headed for the area on their right instead.

In thee stood the moquerie of the four other knights, just barely recognizable based on how grotesque the whole thing was. But it had been sculpted with care and admiration, and even all of the railleries in the world could not tarnish this weird aura of devotion they held. 

But what dared to stand besides these giants? Yet another sculpture, much smaller, and newer it seemed. One that the vessel could compare themselves with, for it had been built in their honor. How kind of this beetle to have blessed them with this statue. But it would have been even more appreciated as if right now if he had been here himself. Instead, not even a figure of himself had been erected. 

Their head low and their shoulders slumped, the knight sat besides their own effigy. What had they imagined, that the legendary Ogrim would simply waltz in, like if he hadn’t been missing for such a long time? Ah, how hope can be cruel at times. 

The little wanderer’s felt fatigue take over them. All this excitation, all this listening, all this running...a well deserved nap, that was what they needed. Maybe they could oblige in their weakness, for no opponent would dare to enter the boastful chevalier’s lair. And how he had been right, as scented as it was, his den was indeed comfortably warm and humid, and its soft ground felt oh so welcoming at the moment. And without fully realizing so, the ghost dazed off and fell asleep. 

But little one, if you had known better, you would have stayed awake a little longer, for heavy footsteps could be heard from above as they made their way to the entrance of the hideaway.

************

After what felt like hours, the wanderer came back to consciousness. Their vision was still blurry, and their senses not fully there yet, but they were at the very least conscious enough to recall where they were. With a silent yawn they stretched, before laying against the large form that had sat itself right next to them. 

They were about to fall back asleep, as they felt something pat their head, something large and comforting. Without missing a beat, they leaped away and drew their nail out. But all desire to fight faded away as they correctly laid their empty gaze on who had joined them. 

“Ah! Little one! Forgive me if I have startled you, but I couldn’t find in me the strength to wake you up. You just looked so much at peace, it would have been cruel of me, really.”

Before them the one and only Defender Ogrim was sat, a dirty map of the kingdom laid in his lap, filled with awkward scribbles and unsteady lines. He looked...exactly the same, but different. Glimmers of white metal shone from beneath the thick layer of dirt and rust that covered the great knight’s armor, and more bumps had been added to it, but what stood out the most was the tiredness in his eyes, which he seemed to try and bury underneath a warm and delighted expression.

“Why, weren’t you expecting me young knight? I might have gone away to travel for a while, but this home is still mine after all! Oh, do not take my sayings as a form of reproach, you are of course welcome to rest here at any time, my young friend.”

The wanderer didn’t say anything (what a surprise) and trotted to the dung beetle, who watched them approach with a tad bit of confusion. When they were finally close enough, they opened their arms offered him a “hug”, something Mato had given them a few times on the occasions they visited the isolated nail master, and that he had described as “a way to show someone you are happy to see them, or that you missed them.” which could pretty much sum up what the empty knight was...feeling?

Now Ogrim was truly shocked. Never had they ever showed any form of attachment, in any way. But that didn’t stop him from feeling a warm feeling of tenderness rush through him. “Ha ha! Do you happen to have missed me my young fella? I’m quite surprised in all honesty, I didn’t think you the sensitive type! Bah, don’t think these words a critic, sensitivity is a strength in itself.” The old knight laughed heartily as returned the embrace. “Tell me, were you wondering where I had gone?”

The little ghost slowly nodded, which caused the dung defender to feel a bit of guilt tear at his heart. “Ah, I apologize. It is true I left without any indication concerning my whereabouts, but I knew that if I had been to tell anyone and so stop myself in my tracks, I would have given up.” With that he lifted the small bug and put them in his lap, the dirty and torn map laid in front of them. “Be reassured, I only decided to visit this old kingdom of ours. I had come to the realization that I had no idea how things had gone since I isolated myself in the royal waterways, and so decided to travel around Hallownest. And things have indeed changed...and not always for the better.”

His last words had a strange tone to them, one that none could ever have imagined the joyous, brave and ever positive Ogrim could muster...one of profond sorrow. Yet his young fellow did not leave him the time to drown himself in grief, for they promptly pointed at an area of the map. The one that showed the Palace Grounds.

“Hm? Is there something peculiar you would like to point out about this place? Or have you ventured there already?”

The ghost nodded at the latter. They then mimicked the movements one would make if they were to read a book of some sort.

“Ha ha! One of your famous charades once again! Alright, alright, let me guess...you visited this area, and found...books? Romans maybe?”

His tiny companion shone their head, and pretended to write in the air, and then pointed at their head.

“Hm...not books then...diaries? Diaries, you found diaries?”

With excitement they acquiesced.

“Marvelous! But, whose journals? Do you happen to know?”

They nodded once again, and pointed at something behind Ogrim. Curious, he threw a look over his shoulder and saw the statues of his old brother and sisters in arms. Confused, he looked back at the knight, about to question them, but was faced with their tiny claw pointing at him.

“You...you found...the journals...they are the ones that my dear friends and I wrote?”

And the ghost nodded once again.

“Impossible...I thought...I thought they had vanished, or were brunt by his Highness or...”

As they saw that the great knight was about to be overwhelmed with bewilderment, they tapped against his armored shell, bringing his attention back to them. Once it was done, they pointed at themselves and mimicked confusion by scratching their head. After that, they mimed with their claws a person climbing up, and the traced the path that tears would follow on their face. 

“Await, Await...so, if I understood correctly...you had troubles deciphering our notes, and...went up to...the City of Tears is that it? Yes? To...find someone who could help you understand them I presume?”

They acquiesced once more, before making the motion with their hand of someone clashing against a wall.

“You came to a...dead end?” 

The wanderer nodded fervently and gently put their ridiculously small hand on his large claw, with an air of silent plea in their dead eyes.

“You...require my assistance?” A shy nod was his answer. “...I...I am not sure...We swore to each others never to read what the others wrote in their journal...they contain our most private thoughts, and while I can forgive you and your friend for you surely did not fully comprehend how personal these diaries were to us, I could not in a million years find in me the strength to cross this one and only limit we once established between the five of us...”

The large beetle felt the grasp on his hook tighten ever so slightly. Before the seemingly pleading look of his little friend, Ogrim came to question his vow. After all, if they did these journals in the first place, he thought to himself, it was partially in order to preserve a part of their stories through history. And what kind of friend would he be, really, to let the memories of his dear comrades fall into oblivion? Especially after he learnt what had happened to each one of them during his journey...

“Ha, who am I to go against your wishes? You deserve to know. Guide me to your historian of a friend! For we must satisfy your thirst for knowledge. Go on, lead the way young wielder!”

And with that the wanderer jumped up and rushed to the exit of the hideaway, causing a loud fit of laughter to escape the old chevalier as he got up as well.

***********

The Relic Seeker was still at his desk, grumbling underneath his beard.

“How can one handle a nail with such grace but write in such a illegible manner!” He pestered as he slammed Fierce Dryya’s journal. 

It had been a couple of hours since the nuisance of a wanderer had disappeared, and Lemm hadn’t made any progress in deciphering the diaries. If the first bit of each had been carefully scribed, the pages after that were nothing but a bunch of notes and drafts put in a ramble. Oh and don’t get him going on the doodles of silly flowers Kindly Isma had left behind. 

“I’ll never see the end of it...” the old bug grumbled, as he allowed his head to rest against his palms, and his eyes to close for a while. 

But after what felt like half an hour, the door of his shop opened. He didn’t even bother to open his eyes for he already knew, or guessed, who had entered.

“Not now you pest, I’m not even close from decode even a sentence of what they wrote. I’d need a miracle sent by the Gods to solve this...this...” his rant was cut short as he felt a terrible stench fill his modest boutique. “Argh! In what kind of dung pile did you frolic this time? It’s the third time this month that you crawl in here, smelling like death!” As the of odor only seemed to get stronger, the shopkeeper raised his head back up, a nasty grimace of displeasure on his face. “I said-...!”

But for once, Lemm was cut short in his tracks, as before him stood a ghost of the past, who bore an amused expression as the seeker’s obvious distaste melted into sheer mortification. 

“I wouldn’t call myself a miracle, but I am indeed quite the expert when it comes to the Five Great Knights! I should know, I was one of them after all!” Ogrim chuckled, not a hint of outrage in his voice nor his cheerful eyes.

“I...you...You are Defender Ogrim...?”

“The one and only!” Said defender beamed as he slammed one of his mighty claw against his chest. 

“I...we all thought you dead...or gone, or...!”

“Ah yes, I did hear the most gruesome poppycocks about a certain demise of mine. Fortunately for the two of you, these busybodies were wrong, for I am still standing and intend to be for at least a few more decades.” 

“The two...?” At the Relic Seeker’s confuses question, a oh so familiar horned mask peaked from behind the champion. “How...How did anuisance like you managed to bring the White Defender to my humble shop?” 

“Ah, gentleman, I would ask you to not refer to my young friend as such! They are a warrior of great strength, and earn the respect of each creature that lays their eyes upon them!” The great knight intervened as he presented a hook for the wanderer to jump, which they did with no hesitation.

“Friend? Friend? You...this n-...erhm, I mean...this fella managed to earn your affection?” 

The large knight nodded, and the not so large knight threw Lemm what could be interpreted as a smug face. 

“But anyway, I did not come to bother you only for my own delight, no not at all. See, they told me you and them had rummaged through my old comrades’ journals, and mine as well.” 

“We...we might have indeed but I...I just-I was just curious, I couldn’t have thought you would come back and-I apologize if-...”

It was disturbing for the ghost to witness the grumpy and cold shopkeeper stutter and apologize. Truly a thing that they thought would never happen. 

Ogrim laughed once again and shushed the embarrassed historian. “Hah! Don’t sweat it my fine fellow, I won’t reprehend you for trying to keep our memory alive. In fact, if I came here, it was to help you in your searches.”

“Pardon?”

“Why, this brave friend of mine told me you were experiencing some struggles. I mean, I would have been surprised if you hadn’t, for our journals were mostly filled with patches of our thoughts, and at times even written in a jargon only us could comprehend. Hah! I can’t believe you even tried to understand what dear Ze’mer wrote down, my poor sir!”

Lemm had to replay the moment in his head several times before realizing what the ancient chevalier said. “Wait a minute, are you telling me-...”

“That I have the intent to aid you? For sure! Nonetheless, I could use to take a look at the journals, for my memory isn’t always the best one...”

In hast the shopkeeper obliged, and handed the sacred diaries to the champion. With a thankful nod he brought them closer to him, as he put the short ghost on the counter. In silence, he read. After a little while, Ogrim let out a sigh.

“Ah, yes. I remember now. Let’s start where things started to go downhill...the first time we had the misfortune to stumble upon a bug infected by The Radiance... “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An interlude chapter, just to keep you on the edge...yes, I am cruel I know 
> 
> Next chapter next week, so stay tuned! Also, go check out my tumblr, awful-little-goose, on which I sometimes post some bonus stuff about this fanfic, as well as some HK fan art now and then 
> 
> Either than that, have a nice day and thanks for reading!


	10. When it all began to end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It beats, it aches, it bites and it lives, deep within the spirits of some unfortunates.
> 
> What beats, what aches? What bites and lives?
> 
> The fall, their end. The end of Hallownest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /!\ some gory details might be mentioned in this chapter /!\

Over the years, Hallownest had been nothing but prosperous. And as per usual, the crossroads were buzzing with activity. An itinerant merchant was screaming at the top of their lungs for a promotion or another, a mother moth was trying to calm down her excited children who were running left and right, a couple of fireflies was carrying heavy looking bags and heading towards the capital, a service agent was cleaning the pavement...All were living their lives, travelers or inhabitants of Hallownest. 

One of the moth children aforementioned took advantage of the business around him to sneak away from his worried parent, who was already struggling with his brothers and sisters. With a playful snicker, the infant squeezed himself underneath the legs of the bugs around him, hoping to successfully disappear as the panicked cry of the poor mother could be heard. Too caught up in his mischievous schemes, the imp didn’t even notice the gigantic form that stood in his path, and head butted a hard and metallic surface. Slightly dazed, the scalp took a few steps back and glared at the one who had dared to stop him in the middle of his obviously wonderful plan. But any trace of offense faded away as he saw who he had crashed into.

“Hm? Are you alright little one?” The eldest of the great knight, Mighty Hegemol, softly asked, extending a hand towards the child in case any sort of support was needed.

The young moth wasn’t even able make out a coherent sentence and just mumbled out a shy little “yes”, still not believing what was happening to him. Meeting one of the Five Greats was an experience any infant would kill to live after all. So it would be an euphemism to say that his poor little heart was about to stop in his thorax when he smelt a scent that was known all around the kingdom, coming from not that far behind him.

“Madam, is it your son yonder?” Ogrim the Defender asked to the frightened mother who had pleaded him to come to her aid. 

“Yes! Oh my Wyrm, Éclat, my little light! Here you are!” The lady exclaimed, followed by the rest of her children, who gazed in wonder at the chevaliers. 

Faster than it would take to describe it, the youngling was engulfed in the warm embrace of his parent, under the touched eyes of the two knights.

“Oh, thank you my Sirs! For finding my sweet boy and helping me! I’m sorry if we caused you any troubles, O’ great knights, but my dear little sunshine has just hatched from his cocoon and is very, very curious and he tends to fly away at times and-...”

Hegemol rose a hand in order to prevent the woman from loosing herself in endless apologies and explanations. “Do not worry madam,” he said with his usual gentleness, “it is but our honor to have been able to assist you. As for the young fellow, I am sure he’ll behave as a true gentleman from now on.” He added, a fatherly glintshining in his eyes from underneath his mechanical helmet. Of course, the little bug could only nod, silent and still as he had never been. 

As the mother once again bowed to both of the champions before heading off, Ogrim walked up to his mighty friend.

“Say, comrade, how has your patrol been so far?” The odorous beetle questioned.

“Unsuccessful, I fear so. And you?”

The white defender simply made a sign with his head, indicating that his searches had been vain as well. “Seems like our targets have vanished into thin air. That, or maybe the crowd is just too thick for us to find them.”

“I frankly doubt that, and I quote, ‘about three isopods of medium height with strange and aggressive behavior’ would merge in that well. Especially when it is specified that they seemed to act in an almost animalistic manner.” 

“Hm. True enough.” Ogrim acquiesced. “But what have they done exactly that required us to come and investigate? Not that I complain about getting out of the Palace for once, but aren’t the sentinels the ones who are supposed to take care of burglars and vandals?”

“You are right when it comes to the latter, my friend.” The behemoth agreed, as he kept on scanning the area from his higher point of view. “As for why we were required, well...it appears as so these individuals have attacked several citizens, in the most savage manner, and managed to harm a fairly good number of guards. So, more than your usual ‘burglars and vandals’ may I say.”

“How come?” The dung beetle blurted, truly surprised. “Aren’t they but mere wood-louses? These bugs aren’t known for their combative skills.”

“Some have reported that they showed a strength far greater than the one a commun isopod would be capable of. Furthermore, it was mentioned in the report that none of them was able to form an eligible sentence, nor show any sign of pain when exposed to the blows of our trained soldiers.”

“Why now I see the urgency! Pray tell, would you reckon their minds could have been altered by the action of some nasty spores? The fungal wastes are not that far away after all, and Wyrm knows how at times the gases from this place can have a strange effect on some folks.” The defender advanced, as he started to keep on patrolling, closely followed by his giant of a friend.

“Ah, I fear that the explanation might not be that simple. See, the mushrooms’ substances actually tend to relax bugs, or more accurately put them into some weird passive trance, which is the exact opposite of our targets’ attitude. But who am I to show off what I know, you might be right after all.”

“We might learn more once we’ll have them caught. Maybe The Teacher will be able to study their odd condition and tell us more about this strange case.” 

Hegemol made a sound of agreement, still wary, even though most of the passengers around them didn’t seem to show any form of worry or suspicious behavior. His brother in arms noticed his tensed posture and tried to coax him into relaxing a bit.

“Say, this Galien fellow, a great warrior he seems like. Hasn’t he tried to court you as of late?” Ogrim teased.

“Court? Might be a bit of a strong term. Impress me, at most, but truly nothing worth mentioning.” The mace wielder replied, though he seemed to fidget a bit.

“Hah! Please old boy, don’t try and convince me that it has no impact on you?” Ogrim laughed as he nudged his comrade, barely bulging the hulk.

“I am flattered, at most, but this fella truly isn’t my type. Too much of a boaster, always in need to prove that he is the most skilled combattant around. I myself am more fond of the intellectual type anyway.” He mumbled, hasty to change the subject. “And you, with Isma? From where I stand, it seems as you two are getting along swell.”

“Question me on such a private matter?” The foul-smelling warrior spoke as he brought a falsely offended claw to his platted chest. “I thought you a beetle who could respect boundaries!”

“Oh please, leave the sarcasm to Dryya and myself, for it doesn’t suit you in the slightest. Come on, spill it, I know you’ve been dying to.”

“Perspicacious as ever, dear companion! Alright, let me tell you, it has been nothing but a delight!”

Hegemol lent his friend an attentive ear as the dung beetle kept on praising his beloved. In his eyes, she could simply breath and it would be equivalent to the most impressive miracle of Hallownest, or so he made it sound like. As they made their way to the resting grounds, one of the last area they had been asked to investigate, the number of civilians had started to lower. 

From the corner of his eyes, the older knight thought he had perceived a movement on his right. Without voicing his concerns, he halted Ogrim with a simple gesture of his large hand, to which the other chevalier stopped right away.

“Is there a problem my friend?”

“I think I saw something.” The enormous chevalier murmured.

“Where?”

The large knight made yet another gesture, this time towards where he thought he had seen a shadow creep around. The numbers of civilians around them was low now, and what he had perceived did not move in a conventionally acceptable manner...it more seemed to...crawl. Hegemol’s grip on his mace tightened as he carefully walked towards the large rock he thought he had seen the form hide behind. With the silence and delicacy only him, as enormous as he was, was able to gather, the hulk lurked around the stone. What he saw behind it was exactly what he had expected and feared to find.

One of the said Isopoda they were searching for was hidden there, on all fours, her back hunched and her mandibles wide open. The bug let out a screech, loud, wild, and which held a strange echo to it, as her crazed eyes filled with a suspicious orange shine gave him a death stare. The knight on the other hand stayed on his position, calm and steady, far from waiting to harm a mere citizen, as aggressive as she might seem. Slowly, he took a step forward. 

But this simple motion made something snap inside of the madwoman’s head and she hurled herself at the great knight with a deafening howl. Fortunately for him, he was able to catch her in mid air, his large palm allowing him to hold her entire being with one hand. 

“Finely seized, comrade!” Ogrim cheered from his position. 

Yet as Hegemol turned his head towards his joyous friend, he witnessed with horror a second one of the wanted individuals creep behind him.

“Ogrim! Watch out!” 

At his warning, the odorous champion wiped around and came face to face with the maniacal gaze of the bug, who leaped at him. Out of reflex, the dung beetle blew him a severe hit square in the face, which sent the assailant flying a few feet away.

“Ah! My apologies my good sir! I do hope I didn’t-...”

“No! Don’t approach him!” The armored giant warned.

But too late alas, as as described in the report he had read, the maniac jumped on his feet as if nothing happened and charged the knight once again, this time impacting him directly in the chest. The action blew the air right out of the chevalier’s lungs and threw him off balance, effectively making him fall down on his back. 

“Ogrim!”

The panic had yet to leave the mighty beetle’s mind as the third fugitive arrived. This one was much larger than the other two, with a sharp horn adorning his skull and fat orange tears running down his mask. Upon seeing the helpless champion, the isopod hurled himself at him, clearly ready to impale the champion with his long antler. 

This time, pure adrenaline ran through the mighty chevalier and with a formidable jump he landed near the trio. His eyes merciless, full of a fury he hadn’t felt in a long time, he slammed his great mace right onto the isopod, and crushed him down to a bloody pile of shell and guts, and an orange liquid squirted out of the remains. 

It was when the sickening sound echoed to his ears that Hegemol fully realized what he had done. The behemoth took a few steps back, terrified by his own actions. On the other hand, the dung beetle was finally able to stand back up and immediately seized the remaining truant in his large claws. 

“Ha ha! Thought you could escape us? You, sir, will have some explaining to do!”

Only an enraged howl and some fierce struggles responded him.

“I have no idea what you said, but I’ll pretend it wasn’t an insult as I believe it was. Say, my companion, do you still have the other one? If so, we must remain vigilant, our third target could appear at any given mom-...oh.”

In silence he approached his colossal comrade, who stood still, his weapon still down and bathing in the nasty debris, completely unfazed by the bug hissing in his grasp.

“Hegemol? Are you alright?”

“That...I didn’t mean to...they were but a mere citizen of our Kingdom I...” the giant managed to tear his eyes away from the mess at his feet but was greeted instead by the shocked faces of the subjects around them. “I...I swear, I didn’t mean to...”

“Hegemol, dear brother, cease to worry already, you did what you had to!” Alas his words seemed to have little to no effect on the mighty warrior. “Brother, I beg you, come with me, we must return to the palace...”

“He was just a citizen...he had a life, a family...”

“I know, I know...”

After some pats on the back and the arrival of the guards of the crossroads, who Ogrim ordered to take care of the rest, the two champions begun to make their way back to the White Palace 

*********

Once they had arrived to the castle, the white defender had left the two isopods to the hands of the royal guards, who hurriedly carried them to the donjons. As his giant of a partner seemed to still be quite shaken by the events from earlier, the dung beetle kindly beckoned him to go and rest in the springs for a while, in order to appease his mind, and then join the rest of the knights in their shared quarters. The mace wielder obliged, and the two parted ways. 

With a sigh, Ogrim opened the doors of the knights’ common room, only to find the three dames already resting in there, chatting peacefully and tending to various activities all the while. Of course his arrival didn’t go unnoticed, especially by Kindly Isma, who promptly let go of her embroidery upon seeing him and stood up from her favorite armchair. 

“Dearest, here you are finally. And unharmed I see! Ah, I do hope your mission went smoothly, now come, join us and rest al-...Await...where is our gentle friend?”

“Hegemol...Hegemol is fine, physically speaking, he went to the springs in order to ease his troubled mind.”

“Aaah? Did something happen to le’mer?” Ze’mer quipped, as she put down the poem she was working on.

“Well...” Before his sisters’ worry, the defender had no choice but to recount them everything that had happened during their patrol, down to the unwanted execution. 

“Mi’? Is that all? Wai shall our dear companion be so upset? Hasn’t he slaughtered numerous opponents befo’?” 

“Clearly, you underestimate his sensitivity.” Dryya interrupted, still cleaning her faithful blade with a delicate tissue of silk. “Our obrother has indeed defeated a great number of enemies, but never or very rarely ‘innocent’ subjects of Hallownest. Reminds him too much of his young years as a mere beast, when blood and screams were a daily thing in his life. That, and when he used the be the King’s scourge and royal executioner. Curse these days.”

“Ulll! What a terrible thing!” The fair warrior lamented. “Poor Hegemol, too gentle for this burden.”

The three other knights could onlyagree, but out of them only Dryya really knew how haunting these memories were to her friend. “Let’s not mention this left and right when in his presence. He does not enjoy being reminded of this barbarian side of him.” Once again, all agreed. 

A few minutes later, the doors opened once again, and the fifth chevalier entered, bare of his large armor. Just as he stepped further into the room, he was welcomed by the warm greetings of his comrades, to which he answered with a slow nod. As he started to try and escape any sort of interaction by walking up to the stairs that lead to their dormitories, the large soldier was cut short in his tracks when he heard a soft tap. He turned around and saw Dryya sat down, who held her weapon before her, admiring her work, as she once again patted the spot next to her on the immense sofa that throned in the middle of the common room. With a smile he did as he was asked to and installed himself next to her, the rest of the knights not far away from them. 

Isma, comfortably snuggled in her large armchair, spoke first. “Say, now that the two of you are here, what do you believe we shall do about this whole situation?”

“What whole situation?” The white defender replied. “Why, there is no situation to be debated about. This thing has been handled, there isn’t much that we can do.”

“Well, she might be right.” Hegemol added, though his tone seemed more distant than usual. “The three of them showed quite a worrying behavior. It would be but foolish to push that asides.”

“What do you reckon we shall do then?” Ogrim replied from where he sat on the ground. “Organize patrols? Stay up there ourselves?”

“Hm...no, that would not be the best solution...it has been proven before, the guards can be inefficient when in front of this kind of challenge. As for us, let’s recall that our excursions outside of the palace shall be kept to a minimum.”

“Maybe a hunter of some sort could be required, ai’?” The grey warrior suggested as she stood up from her spot next to the two most ancient knights, in order to put her newly achieved poem away. 

“A hunter you say?” The fiery champion repeated. “...I might happen to know a fairly decent one.”

***********

A few days after, a strange individual with a red and two horned helmet marched inside of the throne room, where the Pale King himself and Fierce Dryya were awaiting him. As the hunter arrived in front of the monarch, he knelt and let his long shredded cloak spread around him. 

“Arise noble warrior, and present yourself.”

“Greetings, O’ Pale Ruler, I am Xero, the hunter, at your service.”

The higher being looked him up and down before turning to his trusted knight. 

“Pray tell, Fierce Dryya, is it the warrior you talked to me about?”

“It is, my king. One of the finest huntsman of the kingdom I believe.”

“You flatter me, fierce dame, for putting my modest shell before yours when it comes to hunting. At last!” The hunter snickered, earning a glare from the elegant fencer. 

“How do you come to know such a person, my chevalier?” The monarch questioned, half convinced by this whole idea.

“We...knew each other long before I came to your service.” She answered, not eager to mention this part of her past in front of the Wyrm.

“Is that so?” The god-king responded, quite impressed. “And you, triumphant Xero, you managed to survive for such a long time? Mere mortals like you usually wither after a certain amount of time if not in company of a higher being such as myself.”

“I happen to know my way around soul manipulation, your Majesty.” The hunter replied with a mischievous glint in his white eyes. “Furthermore, one as combative as me can fly away from the deadly grip of the passing years.”

The King nodded, this time convinced by the strength of the warrior. “Fairly well then, you may serve the white court for a while. Of course, your services will not be unpaid, and I already know your price. Your mission, great hunter, is to investigate the crossroads in order to find where this...” at that he snapped his fingers and a servant trotted to his sides, and presented a phial of the strange orange substance that had been harvested from the two insane isopods. “...intriguing liquid might come from. You will be given three weeks. Would you agree to serve this noble cause?”

“Of course, your highness. With the aid of my four nails, no mystery shall stand in my way. You can count on me.”

“Then go, brave fighter, accomplish your quest.”

The warrior bent once again and made his way out of the throne room. And in secret, even though she was the one who had advised the monarch to choose Xero as his trapper, Dryya felt an unnerving shiver run down her shell. One that made her think that maybe it hadn’t been he wisest choice. 

********

The light of the elegant street lights of the city shone brighter than usual before the Pale King, who had come to the capital in order to consult one of his most trusted followers, Lurien The Watcher, faithful guardian of the City of Tears, ever observant eye of Hallownest. 

Ever since he had received the red hunter in his castle, the king had yet to hear from him, while the given timeline had been crossed a few days ago. Highly vexed by this lack of rigor, but also vaguely worried by the non-return of the supposedly undefeated warrior, the higher being had chosen to take advantage of The Watcher’s sight and pay him a visit.

Of course, he was not enough of a fool to head there by himself, oh no. Close behind him, Kindly Isma and Fierce Dryya marched, followed by a dozen of royal sentinels. It might not be much more than a simple visit to the Heart of Hallownest, but precautions were still much needed, even if the kingdom was at peace. Yet, although she was proud to serve her monarch, the fierce chevalier felt some shame at the moment. She was, after all, the one who had suggested Xero’s intervention. 

As she sensed the tension in her comrade, the kind knight tried to cheer her up, if not a bit. “It has been a long time since I came here! I must admit, the architecture of this place is simply remarkable. It hasn’t even changed ever since I visited the place for the first time!”

Only an anxious hum responded her. She had to try harder than that. “Do you recall our first encounter, dear friend? What an adventure it was! Don’t you agree?”

This time, some fondness appeared on the fencer’s face, as she remembered this day. “How could I not remember such an event? Did I ever apologize for trying to slaughter you sweet Isma?”

“Why bother? You just tried to protect their majesties, very much to your honor.” 

“I see, so I haven’t. Well, forgive me then.” Dryya spoke and respectfully bowed her head before her sister, who let out a light laugh. 

“Oh, if I told you not to bother then I meant it! But fine, apologies accepted, if it can ease your conscience.”

“It does, very much so.” The slender chevalier added with a thin smile. “Although, I am glad you did what you did. If not, you wouldn’t be standing by my sides as of right now. And you wouldn’t bother us everyday with this silly little affair of yours.”

The plant warrior gasped and threw a six eyed glare at the svelte fencer. Alas, her good heart did not allow her to remain offended for too long, and quickly enough her form was shaken by a delicate laughter. “Alright, alright! Complain all you like, but admit it, you are happy for us!”

“Ha! More than you can think.”

The two ladies smiled at each other, one warm and honest, the other more timid but motherly. 

“At least, this time around, no assassins shall interfere!” Isma quipped.

Well, maybe she should have stayed quiet. As soon as she spoke, a red shadow jumped in front of the cortege, and two long nails seemed to flash into existence and flew right at the Wyrm. With a swipe leap and as one bug, the great knights put themselves between the weapons and his majesty, before casting the weapons asides with one motion of their respective arms. 

But they didn’t have time to change positions as the assailant attacked once again, and dashed at the trio so fast they appeared as nothing but a blur. This time, it was the soldiers’ turn to intervene, as they made a defensive circle around the Wyrm and his personal chevaliers. To no avail it seemed, for the renegade defeated half of them with ease and circumvent the remaining ones, still focused on their goal. 

Enough was enough, and Dryya bolted towards her opponent, blade first. Her action caused the dissident to halt in order to block her deadly needle. And with horror, the fierce fencer recognized her ennemie: Xero, his eyes wide open and filled to the brim with hatred. 

The hunter took advantage of her shock and shoved her aside before plunging one of his nail deep in her thorax, causing a light grey blood to gush out. 

“Dryya!” Isma yelled, her eyes full of tears. Her expression melted into a hateful sneer and thick thorns sprouted onto her creepers. 

In response, the traitor let out a shell raising howl, one that did not sound like his own, and dashed towards the enraged warrior. He had seemed to underestimate her fury, for without a blink of her eyes she slashed him with one formidable whip of her lianas, causing the sound of a shell being nastily botched to be heard. The dame wrapped her vines around his form and held him high above the ground, squeezing him tighter than what she should have been. 

“Traitor! What do you have to say in your defense!”

The hunter wailed once again, his vocal cords put through some unhealthy efforts. Slowly, his incoherent scream started to form an even more incoherent speech. “Forsaken worm! Imposter! Thief! Forgotten, alone! Your fault! In pain! Your death, a relief for all! Your head on the ground, your heart out of your chest, your soul shattered and thrown to the Void! I shall, my nails, serve her! Kill the false light! Ancient enemy! We do not fear you! The light cannot be consumed! We cannot be consumed!”

Harm her dearest friend and insult her king? That was too much to handle, even for the good hearted champion. Without a care in the world, she slammed her prey down onto the ground and knocked him out cold.

A heavy silence fell. All civilians who had happened to be trapped in the whole thing stood helpless, as the soldiers who had survived the nails of the traitor started to hurry around their injured companions and the defeated great knight. As some of the guards lent her a hand, Dryya came back into consciousness and winced when she felt the stinging pain in her sides. Not a deadly wound, fortunately, but not a pleasant one either she had to admit. 

With a cough she lifted her eyes to the unconscious form of her old acquaintance. What had gotten into him? What made him commit such a sacrilegious act? What...what...what...?

But her trail of thoughts vanished as she passed out once again. 

*************

The needle wielder slowly emerged from her unconscious state, her vision blurry and her thorax still throbbing with a numb pain. Around her she perceived worried whispers, a faint light, and the lapping of water. As she tried to move a bit, she felt a liquid surrounding her, and the smooth surface of carved stone underneath her body. Her memories of the recent events started to come back to her, as she peeled her eyes open. 

She was in the royal infirmary, in one of the individual bathtubs full of the steamy water that found its source in the hot springs above. As her sight started to clear, she found all four of her companion by her bedside, who were discussing in a hushed tone, unaware of her alertness.

“Ulll! Friend Isma, what a terrible encounter you two have experienced! Che cannot believe the trusted hunter betrayed our Pale King in such a way.” The lanky knight spoke. 

“And yet he did, I assure you!” The kind dame added. “This traitor showed a strength far greater than I would have expected out of him...and his words...an absolute nonsense!”

“And now, what will follow?” Ogrim quipped in. “What will happen to this renegade? Is the Wyrm going to...give him a trial? So that he could explain himself?”

At his suggestion, all of the chevaliers stared at the odorous beetle in disbelief. 

“...You’re not only a fool, you are the entire colosseum.” It was Dryya’s turn to join the conversation, which brought the surprised eyes of her comrades upon her. 

“Dryya-...!” Hegemol started, but was promptly interrupted by the fencer, who rose a claw in his direction and bore her dark eyes into the dung beetle’s. 

“The king shall not let this insult slip like that. Did you not pay attention to him during your decades of servitude?”

“Why, you tried to assassinate him long ago if I recall correctly. And he made you his champion.” The white defender tried, causing the slender warrior to scoff. 

“Hah! Our situations have nothing in commun! At the time, assassination attempts against his Highness were a daily thing, and I was a little nobody, not a skilled warrior who swore to serve the white crown before committing such a betrayal, and I at least had the decency to do it in private.”

“Excuse me but you were more than a little nobody...at the time, you were the mantis lords’ student.” The largest chevalier muttered lowly.

“Silence, you almost got beaten up by a little nobody, accept that already.” She stung, which made the eldest one rise a smug brow.

“I still remember you biting the dust though...”

“So if it can correct your naive suggestion, brother Ogrim,” she pursued, not even acknowledging Hegemol’s remark, “No, his majesty is not going to grace him with a trial.”

“What do le’think his highness might do then?” Ze’mer questioned. 

All eyes turned to Hegemol. He was the most ancient knight after all, he had known the king for longer than the others, and on a much more personal level. The behemoth sighed and looked down, his four eyes holding a sad glow to them. “If your friend is lucky, he will be imprisoned for a life time...if he is not, he will be executed in private...and if he is particularly unfortunate, it will be a public execution, so that his name shall be tinted with shame for the rest of Hallownest’s history...” 

None of the bugs present knew how to respond to that. He was right after all, these were the kinds of punishment that were awaiting the traitor. Quickly enough, one of them changed the topic of the conversation, deciding for the rest of the group that a lighter subject was much needed. And the others did not seem to complain. 

For a little while they remained here, keeping company to Dryya, but also to one another in some sort of way. After a little hour of convivial exchange, the door of the infirmary bursted open, shattering the peaceful moment. A quite panicked servant entered, and earned in response to their intrusive behavior the glares of the five great knights. The vision alone might have made the poor domestic instinctively cower, but the thought of what awaited them if they wasted even more than a minute in useless courtesy made them fret far more.

“I...Sire Hegem-m-mol The M-Mighty...you a-are summoned t-t-to the throne r-room on this in-n-nstant...” 

This made the giant cock his head to the side out of confusion. Why would his highness require his presence? But without questioning the obviously frightened serf, he took pity on them and rose up. With a respectful bow he saluted his comrades and headed out of the dispensary. Yet if her companion’s behavior seemed the most relaxed, Ze’mer felt a voice deep within her souls that told her that something was wrong. Listening to her instinct, she stood up as well and was quick to follow the path her friend had just taken. Alas, the servant and the mighty chevalier were already far ahead, and Hegemol entered before she could even stop him.

As the doors slammed shut behind his back, the mighty soldier walked up to the throne, where sat the Wyrm in all his glory. With a bit of uneasiness, the warrior noticed that no member of the court was present, only the two of them. Pushing his worries to the back of his head, the knight knelt. 

“O’ Pale King, pray tell, what must you demand my presence for?” The behemoth knew well that after of these decades, centuries even, of obedience, the monarch and himself allowed each other to relax when alone, to even slid a jest here and there if desired. But the giant also knew to read the room, and at the moment, it was glacial. And so, only the best demeanor was accepted.

“You shall agree that today’s events were the most insulting to my person?” The god-king spoke with unhidden wrath. “A hunter, a nobody, dares to betray me before the eyes of my very own subjects, in the very heart of my kingdom. He dared, this louse, to insult me, to hurt one of my knights and seek to harm me. He must be punished.”

“One could not do anything else but agree with you, my monarch.” The hulk added, curious as to where this conversation was heading, for he had little to no clue at the moment.

“I have decided to bath his name in the lowest form of dishonor, wash away all notion of glory from his past, and use his pitiful being as a demonstration of what might happen to the ones who would have the nerve to think me their prey! He shall be executed, tomorrow at dawn, in front of as many as possible.”

Ah, so he was unfortunate. In his heart, the mace wielder winced at the idea of such a portrayal of violence. It had been a long time after all since the monarch had chosen to punish one in such a way, so long even that it seemed surprising. But for his own sake, the old chevalier did not comment on his majesty’s decision. “Fairly well, my king.” 

“Glad you agree. Now, I demand you to go and rest, and polish your club, for it shall be put through great use tomorrow.’’

At that, Hegemol felt his stomach drop and his bones turned to water. 

“My...My king...you don’t suggest...” the chevalier almost gagged as he tried to pronounce his own thoughts out loud. “You don’t suggest that I shall be the executioner?”

“Why yes I do. You did it before, you shall do it once more. Based on how unusual this affair was, and on how humiliating it was as well, we shall send a clear message to all.”

“Pale King, I shan’t...I cannot so such a thing! He will be unarmed, and the...the look in their eyes...” He tried to bargain, as the memories of the faces of the subjects of Hallownest resurfaced, all gapping up at him in utter horror, as yet another convict succumbs by his hands...”I cannot-...!”

“Oh, cease that already!” The Wyrm hissed as he stood, frustration rolling out of him in waves. “You are supposed to be a warrior, my mighty scourge! Not a soft and useless beetle of no name! I gave you an order, the one to avenge my honor, and you shall do so!”

These last words felt like daggers to poor Hegemol, and dread gnawed at his insides. He could not say anything, not even admit what he feared what might happen after the execution, not even shout his anger, not even beg. He was at lost, he didn’t know what to say. 

And so, as usual, he said nothing.

Ever so slowly, the champion arose, towering and silent. 

“I like that better. Dismissed.”

Still deadly quiet, the knight turned around and forced the doors open with one of his mighty hand. With heavy footsteps he marched out, and as the doors once again shut behind him, he remained in place.

Previously hidden around the corner, Ze’mer appeared, her hair like wings tendrils softly floating around her, as if they had a mind of their own. She could feel the deep sorrow, the fear, the utter ire that battled in his soul. The grey mage walked up to him, almost sliding on the floor. The older chevalier has yet to notice her arrival, as she stood a few feet away from him. With a soft sigh she broke the distance and put a hesitant hand on his imposant shoulder.

Hegemol jumped slightly at the sudden contact, only to realize who had joined him. He glanced at his friend, his eyes full of regret, concealed behind his mask of pale ore. 

“Me’hon...what weights on your mind?”

The giant said nothing and turned his head away from her. If he indicated his distaste in any form of conversation at the moment, the lady knew he needed some sort of comfort, of release. Ever so slowly, the dame slid her claws behind the horned helmet that kept her comrade’s real face hidden from all and triggered the mechanism, efficiently opening it. 

And that’s when she saw them. The tears. Silent, timid tears, running down the great beetle’s dark shell. He did not even really react to this intrusion of some sort, and simply threw her a look of profound pain. 

“I...Tomorrow...I will execute the traitor...”

Ze’mer brought a claw to her face. She had heard little about the behemoth’s time as the royal hangman, only during this one conversation when Dryya mentioned it, and yet she felt all kinds of shock and pity upon this revelation. How could the king inflige such a burden to his loyal knight?

“Brother Hegemol...Me’hon...”

“I...I’m terrified my sister...I fret...I fret to feel in me this gruesome need to kill in order to survive, the one I took such a long time to get rid off...I fret to feel this horrid sentiment of superiority....I fret to see their eyes...disgusted, full of fright...or worst, filled with a sick admiration...and in them perceive the reflection of the one I once was...I’m terrified...”

And as she saw his mighty silhouette shake, she knew words would be of no aid. And in silence, she wrapped her long arms around him, in an attempt to reassure him. As if she were that last thing that kept him alive, he held onto her, trembling and weeping. 

**********

And as the night passed, the morning came. Too soon alas.

The light of the castle was still dim, indicating that the sun had started to rise on the surface. The promontory that had been used so many times to host glorious events was now bearing the heavy weight of an elegant carved cobblestone, which only flaw were the remains of dried blood on its surface, that the serfs hadn’t been quite able to scrub off. 

As per usual, the Pale King stood in front of his knights, who waited in silence behind him. This time around, the queen had been given the opportunity to not join the ceremony, which she quickly decided to avoid. The monarch scanned the crowd before him, his eyes cold and somber, and his pointy crown shining with an intimidating glare in the still sleeping glow of the palace. 

“My dear followers, today, it is with despair and outrageousness that I present myself to you. For our kingdom has been the most stable during these last decades, a foe, a renegade decided to shatter our peace. He had swore to serve us, just to betray us in the most vicious way. Not only did he harm Dryya the Fierce, a friend to him, a confident to I...” the Wyrm said as he vaguely designated the named chevalier, an expression of grief on his face, yet his eyes were still empty. “But he also attended to murder your King.”

At his words, a howl of fury erupted from the assembly. The unnerving clinking of mandibles smashing against each other, the loud flutter of wings ruffled in passion, the cries of thousands of bugs yelling in dissonant unison. 

As vividly as it rose, the screeching died down as the clawed hands of the god-king were lifted in the air. “Your cries have been heard my subjects, and my heart swells before your adoration. But do not fear, for our enemy shall feel the cold embrace of death as his punishment.” 

On this sentence the king went back to his place in the middle of the promontory, and several guards arrived, climbing on one of the stairs on each part of the overhang. And with them they brought the convict, restrained in thick chains, and some sort of barbaric muzzle blocking any sound that could come from his mask. Only his eyes, pale and foreign, could be seen, and could very well speak for themselves. Without any form of ceremony he was shoved down on his knees, and his head slammed onto the cobblestone, before two guards linked his shameful gag to the bedrock with metallic bonds, in such a way that he was now unable to move from his position. 

The Wyrm stared at the felon with vehemence, his sinister glare boring holes in the traitor’s skull. “Mighty Hegemol, my champion, my ancient chevalier, my vengeful hand. Avenge your ruler, and let this hypocrite taste your mace’s exquisite blow.”

As a golem made of nothing but gearwheels and iron, the old knight made his way to the convict, his pace slow, his club heavy in his hands. As impassive as his behavior was, inside of his mind was taking place a fight between himself and his rising panic, and underneath his thick gloves his hands were cold and clammy. As he walked next to the monarch, he sensed his godly aura brush against his soul, and message that was cristal clear: do your duty, and do not disappoint me.

As he finally arrived behind Xero, still blocked on his knees, the behemoth passed an arm around him and opened a thin little latch located in the middle of the muzzle. 

“Any last words?” Hegemol rasped, his throat tight. 

A moment of silence was allowed, all wanted to hear what could have caused this lunatic to act in such a agnostic manner. At last, a weak inhale was taken by the traitor, who twisted his neck towards his executioner in a way that shouldn’t be possible...and from the opening erupted a scream, the echo from deep within, unnaturally strident. 

All were shaken, and covered their ears. Even the five knights winced before the intensity of the wail, yet one of them felt some old memory, a forgotten knowledge, resurface when exposed to this scream. 

Ze’mer could not quite tell what it was, but she seemed to recall something, something she had learned about in her old tribe, something archaic, something bright,something divin, whose soul had invaded the core of the hunter. Out of instinct, she went to stop her friend, shouted to him to not liquidate the dead shell that now was the red warrior, or else it would to nothing but anger his puppeteer even more...but for as loud her voice could be at times, it was nothing but a whisper in this torrent of screeching. The once beast lifted his club, high and massive, and emitted a deep grunt as he slammed it onto the skull of the haunted one. Blood and golden substance squirted everywhere, as the howl faded into a pitiful moan before disappearing for good. 

Quiet, oh so quiet is the world after the angry storm. Yet how loud Hegemol’s heart was hammering in his ears, as the liquids dripped onto the ground. He looked down at the crowd, their eyes wide. Then roar, the terrible roar, the one that is born after every execution. The faces. Most of them covered in macabre glee, before the well deserved punishment and the violence their hearts pleaded for. And some, lost, utterly frightened, forced to cheer as well, or else they would follow the red traitor in his fall, or so they dreaded. 

The mighty beetle, on his behalf, felt nothing but mighty. He threw a look over his shoulder, shameful, guilty look. Isma had turned her eyes away, she couldn’t bear this terrible scene, even if the bug had hurt her dear comrade and beloved ruler. Ogrim seemed conflicted, for he admired the Pale King, but could he really stand such useless display of power? Dryya...oh Dryya looked the most hurt. That is true, the one she had known since the beginning of her training had tried to murder her, but how could she feel before the sight of her closest friend holding a mace covered in the hunter’s blood? As for Ze’mer...

She had tried to walk up to him, and her arm was now uselessly extended, as in frozen in motion. And when she met the behemoth’s eyes, the grey combatant took a step onwards. And only then she spoke seven cryptic words, that bore deep inside the chevalier’s mind, and shocked her monarch, who from his spot could perceive her speech as well.

“It was not him that you harmed.”

**********

The dung defender finished his story on this last sentence. He had never realized how painfully foreign these memories were to him now. He had chosen, in blind naivety, to only recall the most glorious parts of his past with the knights. Not the one that showed them hurt, or confused. 

He was quickly torn away from his trance when a little hand patted his shoulder. The wanderer was studying him with intensity, as if curious to learn what was to come. The shopkeeper himself, known for his snarky comments, remained quiet, completely hypnotized by his story.

Before then avid looks, the old great knight laughed. “Ah, I didn’t know myself such a captivating raconteur! If only dear Ze’mer could have been the one to narrate you this formidable story! Well, formidable...it might be a bit of a hyperbola, for the only admirable thing in it is how formidably pathetic the end is, I fear...” he felt...uneasy...he wasn’t used to feel so low when mentioning his long lost friends...he had forgotten how tragic this whole thing was...already, flashes of traumatic events came to him...his claw covered in blood...their strife...her eyes full of-...

“Erhm...Sire Ogrim?” Lemm spoke. “Are you alright?”

“Hum? Oh, yes I...it is but a lot to remember at once...hand me Ze’mer’s diary if you please, I seem to recall something, and I believe she has the answer to it.”

The Relic Seeker did not need to be asked twice, and passed the journal to the hands of the odorous warrior. 

“Ah, yes indeed...here it is...when we discovered who had really tried to slaughter the Wyrm...”


	11. Forgotten dreams, forbidden nightmares and forsaken epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You, who claws at the minds of the followers.  
> You, who hides behind light and dreams.  
> Show yourself, shine for all to see.  
> Reveal yourself to them, the monarch, the master and the servant.

Alone in his most personal office, the Wyrm walked back and forth, his clawed steps leaving behind him a worrying resonance. What could have Ze’mer meant when she spoke these enigmatic words a few days ago, just after the execution?

The execution...the look in Hegemol’s eyes...the pain, the rancor...the sorrow...

No, he shan’t even think about it. It was but the behemoth’s fault if his shell had grown soft. The Pale King had to defend his honor, the entire kingdom depended on it. The undergrounds did not need a ruler surrounded by acquaintances who couldn’t even defend his glory and his name, for every land that was managed in such a way was bound to fall. And Hallownest shall last eternal...

As he casted these useless sentiments asides with pure logic, the monarch went back on ruminating. When he had questioned her, the grey knight had admitted to not recall saying her enigmatic words. And cursed be her foreign origins, for the lanky warrior’s mind wouldn’t bend under his divin inspection, for it had been protected since her youngest age by thick spiritual walls, that even if she were willing to open to him, would never bend to his godly scrutiny. 

At last he fell in the chair at his desk, strained. His power had met an enemy, freshly appeared, but who seemed invisible. He had made sure to vanquish any form of foe that could stand in his path, and yet now all his hard work felt at risk, for a reason he couldn’t quite grasp, but could feel...and when it came to these kinds of feelings, he alas was rarely wrong. 

The Wyrm felt himself slowly drown in fear and insecurity, and out of reflex his mind shut down, as if to deny that any sort of danger was lingering over his kingdom. In his mind palace, everything was quiet yet amplified, like a large room made out of marble, where every step sounded like twelve. Particles of purity floating around him in a lazy dance, a pearly white light surrounding him, the monarch felt at peace. 

Yet terror stabbed his heart as he felt long and thin limbs enlace his limbo form. The ruler focused deeply and released around him a powerful wave of pure energy, which would have sent even the best dream priest of all flying back into the physical realm, with a throbbing mind and a newly found insomnia. Yet this invader simply stumbled backwards and chuckled, their laugh intertwined with coughs and rasps. The Wyrm whipped around, his stance wide and his sharp silver claws at the ready. But his posture fell as he recognized the intruder. 

A tall and svelte creature wrapped in a shredded black and blood red cape stood before him, his scarlet eyes adorned by long vertical lines which slashed his face from bottom to top, where two large horns throned. In a playful manner, the invader bowed as low as he could, throwing a mocking glance to the king.

“Dear Wyrm, what an immense pleasure to meet you again. How my heart has ached to see you again since our last...encounter.” The troupe master spoke, his voice sending chills down the shell of the monarch.

“Pray tell, bearer of the Scarlet Heart, why shall you dare to enter my spirit?” The ruler spat out, trying to hide his worry upon meeting the cardinal vessel, Grimm. 

“Why, I thought you shrewder than that my old friend!” The nightmarish creature gently mocked as he straightened his back, to the low heightened God’s annoyance. He knew how much the crimson master enjoyed to mock his diminished stature. “I happened to sense a deep fright enter this nest, and as you know, the grief and dread of another lures me close.”

The Wyrm rolled his empty eyes, trying to make it as painfully obvious as possible that he took great dislike in the red creature’s presence. As every higher being knew, to have a bearer of the Scarlet Heart visit your mind was always a bad omen, and to get rid of them as quickly as possible was often encouraged. Yet the nightmare mentioned something that triggered the monarch’s interest.

“That, of course, and something else...someone, shall I say.”

“Someone?” The Wyrm beckoned, now eager to hear more of what the scarlet visitor had to say. 

“It feels like it...Though whom? I do ignore. They hide away from my sight, yet from where I stand I can see glimmers of their form, not enough to contact them I fear.” The cardinal being grazed his ebony claws against his own mask. “I did attempt to attune to this intriguing presence, yet to no avail. My mind-realm was only flooded with a rage that was not mine, and I had no other choice but to flee away.”

The god-king taped his chin pensively. He had yet to confirm that these two entities were indeed related, but from what Monomon had gathered from her study of the possessed ones, they seemed to be controlled by some sort of parasite indeed, one that she had qualified as “impalpable” and “sensitive to outer elements”, leading the white ruler to believe that it was some kind of spiritual and intelligent presence. All these elements did remind him of something and yet...it was not possible...

“You seem in deep thoughts dear Wyrm. I wouldn’t have expected you to care that much about an inconvenience that I, of all people, came across.” 

“I feel no pity towards your unpleasant experience, slave of the Scarlet Heart.” The Wyrm hissed in return, to which Grimm’s smirk grew. “Yet, it appears as so I have been bothered by this entity as well...not directly, but through some of my subjects. Alas, they weren’t able to simply “flee away” unlike you, red bearer.” 

“Ah, so I was right, this being of fury does lurk around your nest my friend. I would be careful if I were you for whoever they are, they seem to hold a deep hatred for you and everything that surrounds this kingdom. On these words...” the troupe master bent again and red particles begun to escape from him, indicating that he was about to leave the realm. 

“Await!” The Wyrm intervened, as an idea had spawned into his head. The scarlet dream catchers froze in place, as the nightmare looked up at the Wyrm. Most of the times, other higher beings were more than hasty to see him fade away, so it was uncommon for him to be held back. “Do tell, crimson vessel, what exactly stopped you from meeting my newly discovered foe?”

The bearer thought for a moment before answering. “I shall admit, the reason is unclear. Yet I suspect it was because, due to my oneiric nature, my mind is an opened one. The consequence of such a condition was that I was bare to this creature’s assault, and wasn’t able to defend myself for it is easy for all to enter my realm and affect my spiritual form.” 

“...And if I happened to know one who would be able to protect their psyche from any form of attack, yet who would also know enough about the dream realm to navigate in it if given your aid?”

Once again, Grimm took a few minutes to respond. “Why, I do believe I would be able to attune to whoever seeks you harm.”

The Pale King nodded, more than satisfied. “Then I would beckon you to come to my rescue, crimson bearer. Of course, your services will be rewarded. Your price will be mine.”

“Ha! Always the diplomat!” The cardinal being chuckled with a cough. “I shall not accept any kind of gift from you, for my actions, unlike yours, do not hold to them a desire for any kind of repayment. There is nothing you now possess that would interest a spiritual creature such as myself, for your physical offerings are pointless to my eyes. No, no, see this as a form of...investment. You probably will be long gone once I even consider to claim my gain.”

The Wyrm squinted at that, for he knew his own age eternal. Yet, he did not raise the slave’s strange words. Instead, he simply extended his pale hand towards the creature, who once again seemed somewhat taken aback by this faint form of positive interaction.

“Fairly well, crimson servant. I do appreciate your aid.”

The scarlet entity’s mask was split by a wide smile full of pointy teeth, his blood colored eyes shining

brightly yet somberly at the same time. He softly seized the Wyrm’s opened palm, his long fingers wrapping completely around his smaller hand. “Do consider our deal sealed my friend.”

And in an explosion of red and white particles, the monarch’s dream shattered and he found himself awaken at his desk. As he looked around, his eyes landed on the door leading outside of his office. As he still felt slightly lightheaded by the way he had been shoved out of his dream, he stumbled his way to the entrance and forced it open. 

On the right side of the door he found Loyal Ogrim, who seemed to have taken as his responsibility to take the latest hours of guard duty. Or earliest, really depended on one’s opinion. Nevertheless, the odorous knight seemed surprised to witness the monarch getting out of his office. Or because he worked extremely late, or because left unusually early, once again it depended on one’s opinion. 

“Loyal Ogrim...” the Wyrm spoke. “Go and tell Mysterious Ze’mer to bear herself for she will accompany me tomorrow. We will be leaving the palace at dawn.”

“May I ask for what matter your majesty? So that I will be able to inform her as for the reasons of this mission.”

“Saving Hallownest should suffice as an explanation.” The white ruler retorted before slamming the door shut.

*************

Long, as if never ending thick locks of grey hair brushed against the cold floor of the Howling cliffs’ hidden pathway. Ze’mer has never seen nor heard of this place ever since she had arrived to Hallownest, even though her comrades had made sure to make her visit the entire kingdom as soon as she had been dubbed. Yet it was in wonder and anxiety that she looked around her, having to restrain herself from coming to a full halt now and then, which would have caused her to probably lose the Pale King, who walked in front of her with stoicism. 

“Now, my knight, I need you to listen to me carefully.” The brilliant ruler spoke, his voice tensed and yet calm while he kept on walking. “I will summon a creature that might appear to you as endangering, which he is, but who will help us.”

“Me’hon, Me’king, if the creature is of such threatening nature, how can one be certain it...le’mer will not assail us?” The grey warrior asked, her instincts begging her to flee away from this place on this instant.

“...I’ve known him for a long time. He is not one to lie, his honor is to great to commit such a sin.”

The pale chevalier didn’t dare to question her ruler on that fact, and instead shoved her worries away from her mind. Finally, they arrived before an immense lantern, which in its core seemed to hold a disgusting knot of guts, while at its top rested some sort of twisted chandelier. The Pale King halted before the torch, and contemplated the strange lantern for a moment. If he wanted Grimm’s help, the slave had to be physically present, and the only way to summon him to the physical realm was to lit the nightmare lantern. The monarch took a deep inhale and snapped his fingers, and a radiant white flame erupted from the tip of his claws. 

“Mysterious Ze’mer, now it is time I reveal you the entirety of my plan.” The Wyrm spoke lowly, his back facing the knight. “This creature will help us by using your protected mind in order for us...for you, to contact the entity that haunts our lands.”

At his words the grey champion took a step back. She had never agreed to such an idea, and very much disliked the thought of having some unknown and hazardous being use her mind to its liking. She even more despised the fact that the ruler had taken his sweet time to inform her as for this dubious scheme of his, waiting until the very last second so that she wouldn’t be able to refuse. Yet, would she have done so? She had indeed swore to obey the king of Hallownest, at her very own risks, when she had been dubbed. And wouldn’t her comrades do the same thing if given the choice? Didn’t she wish to protect her home, and all of her dear ones? Yes, yes she did.

As she stifled her doubts and bitterness, the king’s enigmatic combatant acquiesced. “It is but with honor that Che’accept this duty.”

The pale crown stayed still, as if unfazed by her words. “I did not expect you to say anything else.” And with a twist of his wrist, the blinding flame born from the god’s will flew to the brazier. In a burst of crimson energy, the torch came to life, as a dry gust of warm wind erupted out of nothing. When the mysterious knight looked back at the lantern, a couple of strange individuals had appeared. The members of the bizarre troupe all bore masks slashed by long verticale lines, as long as a red attire, yet apart from that they were nothing alike. 

Two of them were bug steeds, high and elegant in their own ways. Another lacked the mounts’ fine delicacy, yet held to her repugnant appearance some sort of unnerving magnificence, with her sophisticated posture and enormous lower part. The third one stood even taller, large and so imposant Ze’mer thought that it could hold a fair fight against Hegemol himself. The creature wore a red patched up hood, its mask following the same stitched aesthetic, and its abdomen was covered by a thick set of elytra. As for the fourth one, he was the most reassuring looking one of the bunch, with his striped puffy sleeves, and a still disturbing looking accordion tucked behind his back. And finally, in front of the cult-looking-like company remained their master, in all his gruesome majesty. 

To say that the grey champion felt nervous was an understatement. She had heard, when she was still part of her ancient tribe, of a higher being able to manipulate the darkest thoughts and fed on one’s deepest fears, and the horned devil did remind her of this archaic legend of the nightmarish phoenix. Once again she took a step back, the travelers’ aura too somber for her to hide her worry. And to her terror, the master sniffed the air, as a wild spider would during its hunt. As he smelled the familiar sent of fright, the scarlet creature smiled, trying his best not to appear as a threat. 

“Well met, milady, well met. Your monarch didn’t try and trick me, for your aura and sent do indeed indicate that you were born in a foreign place. One that knows how to handle my kind.” The horned being walked up towards the dame, with a slow pace as to not frighten her, and gracefully bowed to her. “I am Grimm, master of this troupe, and it is but a pleasure to meet such an elegant lady.” 

On this words the troupe master extended a somewhat welcoming palm. Unsure, the knight put her own hand in his, and the scarlet spirit kissed its back in a more than charming manner. Yet the grey warrior took it upon herself not to withdraw it with too much hast, for the mere contact of the red being’s mask against her shell felt like the harshest fire. 

“Ah, and the taste of your physical envelope...Yes, all indicates that your soul is not bounded to this nest. What a strong will as well...a faithful heart, well seated in your chest...And this aura about you, this barrier that repulses me, that makes me want to recoil away from you...A fine stage your mind will be!” The cardinal bearer added, his sharp fingers twitching with unhidden thrill, and his brilliant eyes lit with curiosity. 

The more time passed, the more uneasy Ze’mer felt. Taste? Repulse? A stage? This fellow had indeed a strange way with words...as if she were one to correct him. Yet the way he phrased his thoughts...his words holding to them a form of vagueness that would let anyone perplex. And the macabre eyes of his followers, as if they were shadows of other bugs, from a long forgotten life. Yet her thoughts were given little to no time to wonder, for Grimm clapped his hands twice, bringing the attention back onto him. 

“Priestess! Why don’t you take care of opening the hidden room for your master and his guests?”

At his command the largest individual bowed and turned to the wall in the back of the room. The hooded being took a few steps back and hurled itself into the wall, efficiently breaking it down to rumbles. Behind it, as the troupe master had said it, a hidden room. 

“Now, let’s prepare for the ritual...shall we?” The crimson slave spoke with this raspy voice of his, as he walks inside of the revealed area, followed by his servants. 

Ze’mer on the other hand was quite hesitant. Yet when she met the authoritarian glare of the white monarch, she forced her body to head onwards. Now that she was in this current situation, in a land forgotten by all, about to fall into the hands of a nightmare being, and to be forced to meet a beast of unknown origins, she had troubles remembering why she had agreed to serve the Wyrm. Furthermore, how could this bug be the same one Hegemol and Dryya has claimed to tease and joked around with all these centuries ago? 

Her thoughts blinded her to the outside world for a moment, as the mysterious chevalier found herself in the middle of the hidden room, the members of the troupe forming a tight circle around her and their cardinal leader, who stood mere feet away from her. 

“Make yourself at ease, my elegant friend. Our decorum might be modest, but we shan’t consider our act as lesser than another. Go ahead, sit, and try to relax your body. You won’t need it much for this procedure anyway.”

If the remark did sound like a harmless quip to the ears of the company, who laughed in a whisper, it sounded awfully like a threat to the knight. Yet she did as she was told, and sat down, folding her long limbs under her winged cloak with this delicacy that defined her. The troupe master mimicked her actions and seated down onto the harsh ground as well, with a bit more of a show. He was now fairly close to her, and as the somber creature presented his two dark palms to her, Ze’mer felt the antennas at the top of her head shiver. Which did not escape from Grimm’s attention. 

“Nervous aren’t you? I would have suspected so. Your tribe raised you with the sole principle of avoiding my kind as much as possible. You must be delivering a fierce battle against your instincts as we speak, and I, along with the tormented ones that came to face your newly found enemy, thank you for your efforts.” The horned creature’s voice died down to a whisper as he leaned forwards. “Now, I will not hide from you the fact that this experience will be the most unpleasant. But fret not, for I am only passing through your mind without prying it open. If you please, rest your fragile hands into mine my friend, for the ritual to begin.”

If the bearer of the scarlet nightmare did appear as a malicious spirit, his words sounded comforting to say the least, even if his appearance and aura did not follow the same energy. The grey belle took a deep inhale and slid her fingers into the burning master’s hands. All of a sudden, she collapsed, thrown like a rag doll into the dream realm in a burst of flames and red particles.

*******

When her vision cleared, the dame found herself lying in a place foreign and familiar all the same. All around her was of a silver color, and a flora that only grew in her old tribe covered every inch of the environment, her beloved delicate flowers being the most represented. And as she lifted her head up, the knight distinguished some sort of drab translucent dome that englobed the area around her. 

As she was still observing her surroundings, she felt a claw gently tap on her shoulder. The lady whipped around and came mask to face with Grimm himself, who served her a toothy slime as he held his hand out to her. 

“Hello once again milady. I must say that your dream realm is rather enjoyable, signs of a strong and healthy mind. And this barrier...my, what a magnificent armor it is! I bless my nature for without my ability to merge with your dreams, I would not have been able to witness such a sight.” He announced as he helped the chevalier up, even though as she was much taller than him, the sight was quite ridiculous. That’s when the cardinal slave noticed the champion’s bewildered expression. “You seem...bemused, my dear. Is there something that feels off about your own sanctuary?” He questioned, as deep inside of him he feared for any form of complication. 

“Mi’? Ah, nai...Well, ai if Che’were to tell the truth. Che’had never been here befo’, for me’tribe only taught us how to protect the mind, not how to enter its reality.”

The scarlet slave blinked at what the lady announced. “Never?”

“Ai.”

“Why, how lucky of me!” He quipped as he bowed with childish malice. “What an honor to be your guide through this spiritual enlightenment. Even if, I must admit, I would have much preferred your first encounter with the oneiric dimension to be a bit less dramatic.”

He stifled a chuckle at the notion of him, Grimm, master of the Grimm Troupe, well known performer and carrier of the Scarlet Heart, wanting something to be less dramatic. As he decided to keep this little self-mockery for himself, the crimson vessel presented his arm to the dame in a most charming manner. “Shall we?”

While she was still a bit wary of the being before her, the lanky champion could not help but lean in his appreciable manners. With caution she accepted his offer, and let him lead the way. His touch was still barely bearable, but if it assured her a safe trip, the chevalier would have to suffer through it. As soon as the tall belle seemed ready to march on, Grimm started to make his way towards a destination that was unknown to the silver knight. Yet it was with unhidden marvel that she saw the enigmatic barrier follow them...no, follow her, loyal shield that it was. 

“Milady, while I do not wish to appear as rude or invasive, I believe I didn’t quite grasp your name.” The crimson nightmare spoke with this polite and social behavior of his. 

“Ah? Ai, Che’is named Ze’mer The Mysterious, faithful knight of the Pale King and servant of the everlasting kingdom of Hallownest.”

“Faithful knight of the Pale King andservant of the everlasting kingdom of Hallownest? Is it truly the term you use to define yourself, dear Ze’mer, or merely the one that was printed onto your existence?” He asked, and his playful facade fell for a moment.

The chevalier frowned out of confusion. “What does nym’guide means by such words?”

“Young one, your soul is still fresh and new, you have yet to live for as long as I have. Through my births, my lives and my deaths, I learned something: nothing lasts for ever. Not even you, not even I, not even the Wyrm, and certainly not Hallownest.” Behind his flaming eyes bathed a shadow of grief as the scorching nightmare kept on monologuing. “I find my end and my beginning in the fear and the fall of others. Every civilization is cursed to vanish, especially on these grounds who birth shadow and gods. The only eternity Hallownest will ever know will be an eternal fall, for the Pale King’s playground already calls out to my thirst for sorrow and terror, it has already begun to wither. Waste no time in avoiding its demise, live for yourself and your close ones, and not for something or someone who will never return your devotion.”

His words shook the lady to her core. But what terrified her the most about his gruesome and enigmatic prophecy was that no echo of malicious intents were to be found in it. Only the cold harsh truth, one that Ze’mer still could not fully comprehend. No, it’s not that she didn’t fully comprehend it...it was that she didn’t want to. And yet, was it really her fight? She had never wished to serve the white monarch, and only did so because if she had refused, she feared the ruler would not have be merciful to her due to her origins. And if she were to leave, where could she go? Was she really were she belonged? 

As she spiraled into her own thoughts, a heavy panic slowly settling within her chest, the drab champion was abruptly halted in her tracks when her guide stopped his march. Her thoughts gathered, she threw a questioning glance in the red bearer’s direction, yet his own gaze wasn’t on her. Instead he was staring with intensity towards the sky...was the sky even a thing in this bizarre dimension?

“Mi’, Master of the Grimm Troupe, why end your walk here?”

“I sense it...the light...it is near...as I had anticipated, it has scented you and wishes to make you its possession.” Through his alarming remark the entertainer smiled. “It took the bait, how fortunate. I was afraid my own energy would cover yours, or that this foe would have failed to target you due to your shield. It must be have been famished to such an extent to be ready to try and to hunt you down... How pitiful.”

The crimson slave fully took her hand in his, his dark shell growing hotter by the second. “Focus my friend, harden your shield for it is our only protection against this predator. I, on the other hand, will try to lure it close enough to us so that we can finally attune to it and force it to revel itself to us.” 

“Await, what if we fail?” Ze’mer gasped.

“We will succeed my friend, do not worry. As long as you do not let your barrier give in, we shall win this battle.”

Alas the chevalier wasn’t given the time to express her concerns that from above their heads echoed the now well known shriek. This time it felt awfully different, much threatening in the fact that the champion knew this holy scream was directed towards her. Then a light, blinding, astonishing apparition, drowned everything in its blazing power. 

Already a heavy mass was trying to force its way through the barrier, Ze’mer could feel it, and each time it threw itself against it a mighty pain resonated through the mysterious knight’s being. Yet it pressed and it pushed, it hit and it scratched, it probed and it forced. 

In the meantime, Grimm was waiting for an opportunity to strike. If it dared to inch just a bit closer...dared to give in its own hunger, he would be able to seize it and force its radiant cover open, baring it of any way to hide itself...

And finally, the brilliant being did so. 

The cardinal slave unleashed his red energy and wrapped it like fire ropes around the form. Immediately, it delivered a fierce struggle and tried to slip away from his grasp, the entity’s wails more piercing than ever. Yet behind the protection of the serene knight, Grimm was given an advantage. 

At last, the scarlet vessel managed to find an opening in the creature’s blazing armor. Without a moment of hesitation, he forced his way in the crack and started to push it apart from the inside. Now the entity was fully panicking, it pulsed and tried its best to break itself free from the nightmare’s scorching gripe, and expelled violent waves of light from its body. Under the unbearable energy of the predator become prey, Ze’mer let out a howl of pain of her own and spat out begs and pleases for it all to come to an end, one way or another. 

And it did. 

The light’s shell exploded in divin particles, and its naked appearance was left for the two to behold. And both of them, from different memories one must admit, recalled the entity’s long forgotten name. In one breath, they whispered it, in awe and fear...

“The Radiance...”

Here she stood, mighty as ever, her horned crown sharp, her fur immaculate and her unending wings spread wide. The goddess’s magnificent eyes burnt with fury, as they settled upon the duo, and from her impressive height she towered them and submitted them to her holy scrutiny. And under her bare gaze the silvery shield begun to shatter, pushed far beyond its limits. 

“SLAVE OF THE SCARLET HEART...SERVANT OF THE PALE ENEMY...” The dream god spoke, her voice somewhat more frightening than her scream, as it held to itself an ire that by far exceeded one that a mortal would ever be able to even imagine. “HE SENT YOU TO UNMASK ME, SUCH A PREY TO COWARDICE HE COULD NOT DO IT HIMSELF, THIS PETTY WORM? FINE, YOU SHALL DELIVER HIM MY MESSAGE. TELL THE IMPOSTER THAT I WILL NOT BE FORGOTTEN, NO MATTER WHAT THE COST. DAWN WILL BREAK. I CANNOT BE CONTAINED. THE LIGHT CANNOT BE CONSUMED.”

And as the deity’s last words scarred themselves deep within the knight’s mind, Ze’mer felt an ocean of light wash over her in one brutal wave, sending her flying out of her own dream.

********

The champion jumped awake, her shell covered in a thin cover of sweat and her antennas twisted in impossible positions. Her breath was short and her eyes still blind to the world around her. Even her ears betrayed her, for all she could heed was a constant buzzing sound which covered every other noise. Suddenly, a pair of hands seized her wrists and as if her life depended on it she forced the other’s arms to bend inwards and grasped their shoulders in return. 

“The light! The light! It is the old light!” She screamed into oblivion, her usually soothing voice now hoarse. “The old light is returning!”

Slowly but surely her vision began to clear, and the fair warrior realized it was her monarch she was shaking like a madwoman. She quickly ceased and resumed to her light panting. 

“Ze’mer, Ze’mer, what is this nonsense?” The king exclaimed, pulling himself out of her right grasp.

“Nym’Wyrm, the foe...it is le’mer...The Radiance...Le’mer has returned...” she exhaled, her voice still shaking. 

“Your fervent servant is speaking the truth my friend.” The vessel of the nightmare god added, himself quit shaken by the revelation. “Your ennemie is indeed my master’s counterpart. The dream goddess is back, Wyrm of Hallownest, and she wants you dead...and far more worse than that.”

The white being’s empty eyes were wide open in pure fright. Of all his former foes he had made sure this one was the one who would remain dead. And yet she stirred again, now able not only to engulf bugs in her hive mind it seemed, but also force them to join her. What a somber revelation, what a terrible end had been predicted in this cold room hidden from the rest of the world. And in the spawn of a second, the Wyrm envisioned the future of his territory...a broken land...all his efforts, wasted, burnt down to nothing...and himself...dead.

The Wyrm stumbled backwards before his own insight and fell as he tripped on his robe. It was impossible...everything, but that...

“I sense it, my old friend...” the cardinal vessel whispered, as he walked pass the grey knight and up to the monarch. “Your fear...so you have seen it...what called me to your nest...its fall, your fall...the death it will succumb to...it has already begun, you know it. I wouldn’t be there if not.” The crimson bad omen bent down over the monarch, a hint of pity in his glowing eyes, barely observable as it was drown in a hunger for misery that was typical of the Scarlet Heart. “You can’t deny the signs. My presence, the infected, our vision...The end is near...” Grimm extended his dark shelled hand and gently placed a claw under the ruler’s chin. “I am truly sorry...”

The Pale King could not move. His little world was about to shatter, and there was nothing he could do about it...

“No.” The god seethed lowly. “No. After all these efforts, all these years, after all these tries, after all these sacrifices...Hallownest...shall last eternal.” With a nasty motion of his own hand he slapped the troupe master’s demonstration of sympathy away. “All these signs, they mean nothing. You mean nothing. My foresight has been wrong before, it is wrong now. You are just a wicked being who brings misfortune in its pass. If I get rid of you, nothing will happen. If I make enough sacrifices, nothing will happen.” The king stood up, his posture hunched, almost animalistic. Him, composed giver of higher thoughts, reduced to his primal behaviors by fear. “Curse you, crimson slave, you and your company! You shall never return on these lands for as long as I will live!”

“...Then our absence will be short.” Grimm retorted, his own face now closed before the Wyrm’s irrational behavior. 

The sacred being let out a screech of fury, which made Ze’mer, distressed witness of this shocking sight, wonder if it was truly the monarch she had sworn to defend or merely a territorial beast who stood before her. As she thought things couldn’t get any worse, the delusional majesty hurried to the other room with in his eyes a thirst for murder. Grimm and the silvery knight both understood what the king was going to do at the same time. 

“Priestess!” The blood colored master exclaimed. “Halt the Wyrm for he is about to extinguish our flame!”

From behind her the grey belle felt the floor rumble under the large servant’s weight. As she turned around she saw in the troupe member’s hidden gaze a will to obey her master’s command, and stop the Pale god in one way or another. Out of sheer instinct, she drew out her gigantic sword, which had been hidden underneath her wings with masterful skills the whole time. Her blade came edge to edge with the follower’s impressive hooks, and both exchanged the look of two servants protecting their master, each in a different way. 

In the meantime, the Pale King had already made his way to the torch. With visceral hatred he gripped the bars of the brazier and tore them apart in an impressive demonstration of strength. Behind him were echoing the sounds of blade against shell, the screams of the nightmarish followers and the warnings of the red slave himself. 

“You can banish us this once my friend, but we shall return, we always do.” Grimm tried, while he still hesitated to physically stop the monarch, whose bright aura had started to strengthen in such a way that even the bearer of the Scarlet Heart was not sure he could approach him safely. 

“Silence! Silence! You are but only a passing nightmare through my peaceful night. You mean nothing, none of this mean anything!” Drown in his own madness the sovereign could not even realize how desperate he sounded. 

He begun to slash at the burning core of the lantern with his bare claws, and the troupe master started to writhe in pain under these blows indulged to the instrument. A few feet away the battle between the two different defendants was still raging. And yet, when Grimm showed obvious signs of distress, the beast made the mistake to focus on him for a second instead of minding the gigantic sword that was being swung towards its hooded skull. Under the impact of the long blade, the beast fell to the ground, stunned. In return, the fair maiden wasted no time in jumping onto her opponent. She applied all of her weight against its shell and focused her energy in a way only a member of her tribe could do so. And yet, she hesitated. In the end, was is it her fight, she wondered once again. 

The creature in the other hand believed so and rolled on its side, in such a way that Ze’mer was now the one pinned onto the ground. All of her doubts had vanished, remplaced by the will to leave, and she unleashed her delicate energy agains that large opponent. The creature let out a mighty screech and seemed to burn from the inside, as it stumbled its way to the back of the room and recoiled helplessly before succumbing. 

From where she lied, Ze’mer perceived the god king, his claws lifted high above the brazier, about to deliver the final blow. And next to him, Grimm, who was now supported by the accordion player, while the others didn’t dare to approach any further from the mad majesty. In the crimson slave’s expression, the grey knight could only decipher one thing: pity and a silent plea for her to come to his aid. 

Yet she did not have the time. 

The Wyrm slashed the core of the lantern, and all individuals of the gruesome troupe vanished in a swirl of flames. All, but the hulk of the fallen priestess, who remained cowered against the ashy wall. 

A heavy silence could be heard. The knight saw the insane deity’s shoulders slowly making ups and downs, as his back started to straighten back to its usual posture. Finally, his breathing evened, and he folded his arms, now covered in burn marks, underneath his robe as usual. At last he turned to her, his look stern and calm. It made her wings flutter in fright. 

“Come Mysterious Ze’mer. The inward journey to palace is even more exhausting than the outward one.” He spoke, his tone not an ounce different from his normal one. 

The silvery champion rose on her feet with the steadiness of a dying leaf whipped by the merciless winter wind. For once the ivory higher being waited for her. But before they started their way back to the castle, he threw her an intimidating glare. 

“To none you shall confess what you heard here. If you come to reveal to one the source of my...disagreement with the scarlet slave, consequences will ensue. If asked, only answer that a threat has risen, but that the presages guarantee us a bright future. Is that clear?”

Her delicate throat tightened under the pressure he submitted her under, and she had no other choice but to agree. “Ai’, nym’king.”

And on these words, they left. 

**********

Yet the Wyrm’s newly discovered problem had yet to be solved. If cutting her away from her followers’ adoration was not enough to extinguish the Old Light, plunging her into sheer oblivion shall suffice. And it was because of this reasoning that the white god now stood before the lake of void, hidden deep inside the Abyss. Years ago he had found this desolated place, were void and shadow lived...well, live, were these entities truly possessors of life? Existed would be more correct. 

By his sides remained Isma, who due to her connection with the White Lady and her light of pure light, did not have to fear to be attacked by the void...as long as she did not stray to far away from the much stronger glow of the ruler. Sensitive nature that she was, the plan being could sense the empty consciousness that stirred in this jet black substance. And behind them, a little less than twenty servants of the pale crown. 

“Your Majesty...May I ask why are we here?” She quipped, her skin growing itchier by the second the longer they stayed in this worrying place. 

“...Has Mysterious Ze’mer mentioned our shared journey to the howling cliffs a few days prior?”

“She...she did my king. She told us how our new ennemie was an ancient goddess of the dream realm, but that you had a vision which revealed you, O my monarch, how to get rid of this archaic foe.”

Good, the enigmatic champion had obeyed him, the Pale King thought to himself. “Indeed Kindly Isma, indeed. What you must know, my faithful servant, is that for longer than time itself, darkness and light have battled over our realm and minds. Both were put to sleep, a grace to us. Yet now that one stirs awake, we must use the other to get rid of her.” He walked up further to the edge of the lake, and underneath his pearly gleam the mass recoiled a bit, forming a dent in its smooth surface. “Deity of psyche, the Radiance finds in each one of us a residence. Yet in the void, she finds a prison from which she cannot escape. But the Old Light is not foolish, and wouldn’t simply get tricked to be lured within the pond. But a being shall exists, an empty shell, created from my hands, born of nothing, empty in all its aspects.” 

The Wyrm contemplated the dark liquid a bit longer before snapping his fingers. “Kindly Isma, bring me the lumafly glob.”

The sweet lady hurried next to the sovereign, and presented his a common lumafly lantern. The Wyrm pressed his palm against it, and in consequence the creatures within shone brighter than nature had allowed them to. He then turn to the rest of his company. “This, my fervent followers, shall be the core of the beacon that will protect you from the wicked darkness. Now off to work, for we have no time to waste. Collect the empty essence, and carry as much as your strength allows it back to the palace. Yet do not come in contact with it, or it shall claim your soul.”

The admirer of the monarch bowed to his command and already started to work, under the scrutiny of the god and the concerned look of his great knight, who wondered if disturbing an entity of hollowness was truly a brilliant idea. 

Yet when they finally returned to the castle, the king seemed more than content with the excursion. In his office, he contemplated the multiplecontainers of pale or filled to the brim with void. Fat particles of nothing were passively floating around the room, as almost all the light within it had been absorbed within the profond darkness. At last, he was ready to create the perfect receptacle that would trap the Old Light forever...

How sweet it is to hope and to dream. 

No matter how many attempts he made, no matter how many mould he designed and brought to existence, none was able to hold the infection. Instead, as soon as the orange liquid was incorporated within the armor of the creations, it would be rejected. But why?

Why wouldn’t the illness adhere to the moulds? Was it the form? Was it the percentage of void particles per square centimeter? Was it the provenance of the void, if it had been harvested to deep within the lake, or too close to the surface? For days, weeks, months even he tried. Everything, anything really. 

When he was at his lowest, the door of his gruesome laboratory shyly half-opened. The crazy king who resides in the room turned a sharp glare towards the entrance, ready to obliterate whoever had dared to interrupt his reflection...yet his ire came to a halt when he realized that the newcomer was no one else but his beloved. 

“My tender Wyrm...you worry me I must admit...” the White Lady whispered from where she stood, hiding behind the door which was dwarfed by her size. “It has been a long time ever since I last saw you...And you are my husband. I care about you...”

The Pale King sighed and opened his arms, a silent request for a proof of physical affection. The elegant dame obliged and buried the tired monarch underneath the thick and pleasantly warm folds of her gown. He breathed in her sent, delivering his mind in her perfume of life and nature. 

“I tire my hertis rote...This problem seems to know no solution, and the plague is starting to spread through the kingdom...”

“Heavy is the head that bears the crown...” the queen spoke in an attempt to comfort her dear. “I quiver before the sight of our people suffering to her hands...Oh, how I wished I could come to your aid my lambkin, I would give up my very soul to help you on this task... cursed be the day on which we learnt about this terrible fate...” she gently caressed the horns of her dear, as it had always been an efficient way to ease his nerves. “Yet thanks to your foresight, we know you will succeed...”

Ah, it was true indeed. This liar of a ruler had hide, even from his own wife, the ugly truth that had revealed itself to him. In flashes he recalled his encounter with the crimson slave...the cries of his silvery knight, how according to the troupe master Hallownest had already begun to fall, his own vision...Cursed be this day indeed. Cursed be these bad omens. Cursed be the bearer of the Scarlet Heart, and cursed be the Scarlet Heart in its hunger...

The Scarlet Heart...entity living within the body of Grimm...Grimm, who carried in his mind a divin burden... Grimm, a living thing of his own...

And it all clicked. 

A shudder of excitement ran through the God’s diminished form. He slipped his way outside of his lover’s embrace and went to his workbench, as he started scrapping a newly born epiphany onto a spare sheet of parchemin. 

“Wyrm beloved! This is barely worthy of a break!” The White Lady pleaded, but ceased when her mate turned to her, his eyes shining with hope. 

“I‘be got it, my love! I understand it all now! The infection could have never been held within any of the mould: they are pure void, they, die to their nature, reject anything related to the light! Furthermore, they are nothing to begin with, and it is not what she is after. She lusts for a beating heart, a living shell, a soul to convert to her mighty cult. What we need, my hertis rote, my tender one, is a creature of flesh and blood, but whose heart is nonexistent. We need a vessel, conceived and born, not designed and sculpted, who would have grown gathered by void!” He finished, exalted. But when his quill met the final word, and his mind his final thought, he froze. “Yet...no creature could grow pure darkness instead of a heart...we’ve seen the damages this substance causes to mere mortals...” 

His eyes fell onto his claws. Yet another wall. Yet another dead end. He thought he had it, and it fled. But the White Lady, with her much clearer thoughts, solved the equation on her own. In a moment of terror that she would never admit to had had, she considered remaining silent to the monarch. But when she saw his fragile form, bent over his desk, helpless, she gave in. 

“To mere mortals, it is indeed the most frightening poison.” From behind the Wyrm, she laced her imposing fingers with his hard claws. “But to you and I...to your pure essence, and the raw living energy I hold...if combined, bounded together in one being, maybe this spawn of two gods could bear the weight of the most empty burden...”

The Wyrm lifted his eyes to met the ones of his beloved root. She had indeed found the solution, but at what cost? ...none too great, it was evident. 

And in a mourning silence, the only instant of affection they would grace their future creation with, they grieved its existence, for it would be nothing but suffering and misery, the shining gods remained still and silent. 

************

Ogrim sighed. All of this narration was painful to his heart. He still remembered when Dryya had told him the depressing conclusion the rulers had come to, after the queen herself had confessed her part in the deed to the svelte chevalier. The odorous knight was so lost in his own thoughts he had failed to acknowledge the baffled expression of the shop keeper, and the enigmatic glare that shone in the stoic traveler’s empty eyes. 

“The White Lady was the one who came up with this idea? And The Master of the Nightmare Troupe was involved in this? I thought this creature only a legend.” Lemm exclaimed. 

“Oh he was involved alright.” The ancient knight bitterly laughed. “I recall the way dear Ze’mer recounted is this surreal encounter. Yet, I did not know about the worrying vision of the Pale King. We can consider ourselves lucky she had the guts to write it down.” He added. “...A fool I was to believe his lies.”

The round beetle was surprised when he felt a small hand press against his mighty hook. Still up on the counter, the tiny knight was still awaiting for the rest of the story.

“Why, I will not stop here my young friend.” The defender chuckled. “I promised you the full story, and you shall be served. Let’s see...”

He seized one of the journal and read for a little while. 

“Ah, yes! When my sisters, my brother and I were requested to fetch for guardians who would be willing to serve the pale crown until the end of times....”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOI HAS IT BEEN A LONG TIME 
> 
> Yes, I took much longer to write this one, and I owe you an explanation: I was NOT excited to write this chapter. But, because I knew I would tend to rush it, I decided to take my sweet time writing it. I did not want my lack of excitement to lessen the “quality” of this chapter, and so I was extra careful about its creation. But fear not! The wait shall not be that long for the next ones. 
> 
> So stay tuned, don’t forget to put a Kuddo if you haven’t done so already and comment to your heart’s desire!
> 
> Have a nice day!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading my work! Don't hesitate to tell me if you think I could improve something, give ideas or suggestions, ask questions, or whatever comes to your mind. So I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, see you in the next one!


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